


We Fell in Love in a Hopeless Place

by nightrider101



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fucking Machines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 11:55:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 45,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightrider101/pseuds/nightrider101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of the third world war, major world powers built machines to stand in the place of human soldiers. Who knew the machines would get along better than the humans ever did? Governments and cities fell one after another as the machines -- red-eyed, metal monsters built to level cities and destroy humanity -- wreaked havoc across the world. Now there is no communication, no infrastructure, no law to rely on, and people are living in scattered pockets across the globe. Jensen is a member and unsaid leader of one of those camps, dug into underground bunkers by night, and raiding the desolate husk of a broken city by day. Jared finds his way to the ragtag group of survivors, and they all struggle to find their place in a world that is nothing like what they have known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_The machines were built to stand in the place of human soldiers, to protect human lives. Artificial Intelligence Defense Force or AIDF. Those who worked on the program just called it AID for ease of pronunciation, and because that’s how they perceived it. On the brink of the third world war, the United States achieved this technology with major world powers not far behind. China, Germany, England and others all followed suit. It was bloody and disastrous, and before long, the machines found better targets. No one knows why the machines turned on their human creators. Major communication resources and infrastructure were taken out quickly, and people were left isolated and hoping their governments would send help and soldiers to protect them. They had hoped in vain._

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D1.jpg)

“Take cover!”

“Holy shit! Get down! Down!”

Jensen drops to his knees, eyes blinking away the dust as he scans the rubble for his friends. 

Chris vaults over the dune and drops behind him. 

“Where the hell is Chad?” Jensen hisses, eyes searching the barren landscape. When Chris opens his mouth to respond, Jensen jerks his head once and grabs the front of Chris’s shirt, pulling him down behind the sandy ridge. The creak of metal grinding against metal and heavy mechanical footsteps echoes around them. 

Jensen closes his eyes and waits, ears focused on the sound of the machine as it walks past, searching for any human survivors. He counts in his head – _one, two, three_. The machine pauses, the footsteps cease, and Jensen keeps counting, knowing because they’re still breathing that they haven’t been discovered yet.

He hears the change in Chris’s breathing, the slightest hitch of breath that means he’s thinking of doing something stupid. Jensen wraps his hand around Chris’s upper arm, squeezing painfully hard. 

Chris’s eyes narrow, flashing, and the silent question is raised: _Chad?_

Jensen shakes his head again. He’s out there somewhere, probably hiding in amongst the forgotten ruins just like they are, and when Jensen gets his hands on the wiry bastard, he’s going to tell him exactly what staying together means. In vivid, graphic detail. He might even draw pictures this time. Maybe then it would finally sink in.

His pulse is racing, but his breathing is measured and silent. He hasn’t gotten used to this and doubts if he ever will, but he’s adjusted. They all have, because this is their life now. What they once were is not what they are, and the lives they used to lead were forfeit in favor of a mechanical war that they hadn’t wanted and had no hope of winning.

Chris doesn’t voice his acquiescence so much as relax against Jensen’s hold, a silent huff of acknowledgment. Jensen loosens his grip, the pads of his fingers resting against flesh and muscle, a gentle reminder.

The heavy footsteps resume as the machine thuds away, continuously scanning for any signs of human life to destroy. They remain on their stomachs, hidden by the blockade. Jensen implemented the ten minute rule about six months ago: wait ten minutes after you hear the last sound before moving, because those bastards are smart, and getting smarter every day. 

Jensen eyes the leather cuff watch on his wrist silently ticking down the minutes until they can move again, until they can try to find Chad. Chris twitches impatiently, and he keeps grabbing Jensen’s wrist to check the time. His hand falls away from Chris’s arm after twelve minutes pass, because he can’t be too careful. Jensen pushes himself up to his knees, eyes immediately tracing the deep footprints in the dusty earth. The machine’s gone, having disappeared into the sun bleached horizon.

Chris stands beside him, grumbling underneath his breath about being too old for this shit. It’s a familiar mantra between them, and Jensen can’t stop his mouth from curling around the edges.

“Don’t yell,” he says quietly.

Chris glares at him. “I’m not a complete moron.”

He nods because he knows Chris has been fighting to stay alive as long as he has, but he can’t stop himself from saying it, from doing everything he can to keep him safe. It’s a courtesy and a loyalty that’s always returned.

“Been awhile since we’ve seen ‘em in these parts,” Chris muses as they start walking in increasingly wide circles looking for Chad.

Jensen sighs, rubbing away the sweat on his brow. “They know we’re out here. They’re gonna keep coming.”

“Until they get us,” Chris finishes.

“They haven’t gotten us yet,” Jensen replies. He’s not a positive person by nature, preferring honesty and realism over rainbows and fantasies that don’t exist anymore. 

“So what are you planning?” Chris asks conversationally. He’s keeping the conversation going, filling the void of silence with words because that’s better than contemplating where their wayward friend has gotten off to.

Jensen eyes him sideways. “What makes you think I’m planning anything?”

Chris snorts, lips curving to a smirk. “Because I know you, Jenny Bean, and if I know anything, I know you’re already thinking what our next move’s gonna be.”

“Yeah, Jenny Bean, what’s the plan?” a mocking voice asks.

Chris and Jensen spin around and Chad is standing less than ten feet from them, trying to slap the sand and dirt off his jeans. 

“I’ve told you not to call me that,” Jensen growls. There’s heat in his words, a heavier meaning that has nothing to do with the nickname he despises. 

Chris is moving away from him, face split by a grin, and he slaps Chad on the back before sliding his fingers to the other man’s shoulder to squeeze. “Been lookin’ for you.”

Chad jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Did you check the trench where I was cowering like a bitch in the corner?”

“I prefer the term strategic retreat,” Chris replies.

Chad smiles. “There was nothing strategic about it. We were just about toast. Speaking of toast, how the hell did you hear that thing coming, Jensen? It had to be half a mile off.”

Jensen lifts an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with toast?”

Chad shrugs. “Made sense in my head.”

“Here’s something else you can make sense of in your head: when I say stay together, I mean stay together. You should be on our asses, man. I want you to be able to tell me what Chris had for dinner by the gas that’s coming outta his big ass.”

Chad takes a deep breath, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “He had Danneel’s sorry excuse for chili.”

“It was vegan. Can’t expect it to be that good,” Chris replies.

Jensen narrows his eyes. He knows people make jokes to cope. God knows these poor substitutes for lives that they lead have destroyed far better men, but that doesn’t mean he wants to lose one of them. “I’m serious.”

“I think he had some type of wheat product. I guess it was supposed to pass as a roll, but who knows, really?” Chad winks at Chris, who doesn’t smile back, merely flicks his gaze to Jensen as if to say _he’s not joking._

“You know what? Whatever. You don’t answer to me. Do whatever the fuck you want.” Jensen spins on his heel and starts for the Jeep. It’s over a mile’s hike, and the sun is dipping dangerously low on the horizon. Their chances of encountering a machine are bad during the day; their chances of survival when encountering one at night borders on the chances of Danneel cooking something that’s actually edible.

He hears muffled voices behind him, but he doesn’t slow down, long legs eating up the dusty, broken earth in quick, agile strides.

Chad falls into step beside him. “On your ass,” he says quietly. “Got it.”

“Doesn’t have to be my ass,” Jensen mutters, accepting the admission for what it is. Message sent and received. It’s already been forgotten. Grudges and resentment have no place in this world where continued survival is the one and only goal, and transgressions, real or perceived, are forgiven and forgotten nearly as quickly as they occur.

“But you have such a nice ass, Jenny Bean!” Chris chuckles, coming up on his right side. “If I had to pick an ass outta our group, and I couldn’t pick one of the girls, I’d have to go with –”

“You can stop now,” Jensen interjects, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“But your ass, it deserves all the –” Jensen shoves him and grins when Chris stumbles and opts to start cursing instead of continuing his tribute to Jensen’s ass.

The Jeep is a blessed sight as they pick up the pace to an easy jog. Chad and Chris carry on the conversation, discussing the machine and the remnants of the war as Jensen starts the engine and follows a different path back to camp.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D2.jpg)

Chad and Chris jump out of the back of the Jeep and Jensen parks it under some dense underbrush. He slips out of the back and they cover it with branches and leaves. If a machine gets close, this makeshift camouflage won’t be enough to stop it from destroying one of their few working vehicles, but then again, if a machine makes it this close to camp, a destroyed vehicle will be the least of their worries. They’ve been lucky so far and it’s enough protection from a cursory look from a distance.

Jensen gazes at the horizon, squinting against the darkness like that will somehow sharpen his vision. A lone owl calls in the distance then everything falls silent. Jensen nods to Chris, who lifts his fingers to his lips and whistles once. The ground comes to life around them as covers are moved and people rise from the ground like zombies from a grave.

Jensen leans back, fingers pressed against his lower back and waits for the pop and his muscles to unclench. He starts for his bunker and leaves the explaining to Chris and Chad – another supply run has come up a bust. He’s already doing the math in his head, the constant stream of numbers that calculate their supplies and food stores compared to how many people they have in the camp. They’re still holding their own, but for how long? They’re on borrowed time as it is.

There’s a face he doesn’t recognize as he passes by, a young woman with a child clinging to her neck. The kid’s young, maybe three or four, looks like he’s missed a few meals, and he hides his face in the woman’s shoulder as Jensen walks by. He doesn’t assume it’s his mother. He stopped making those assumptions over three years ago when everything he thought he knew got turned on its head, when the war started that burned the world from one edge of the planet to the other.

He pushes a metal cover aside and slides down the ladder to his bunker buried six feet below the surface. Jensen knows he’s the luckiest one here because he’s one of the two people that have some type of shower facility, even if it’s just a concrete stall where he hangs a bag of water. He figures that’s the perk of finding this place, of being the one who burned the owner’s mangled body in a makeshift funeral.

Jensen pulls off his clothes and leaves them scattered across the floor as he steps into the tiny shower stall. He tugs the stopper off the tubing and pours cold water over his body, enough to get himself damp before grabbing the soap and rubbing the dirt away. He’s on autopilot, planning the supply raid tomorrow. He’s going to head for the city, a broken shell of what it once was. They need fuel, medical supplies if he can find some, and whatever else they come across. 

As much as he’d like to go after that machine, he knows they’re soldiers, built for destruction, for war. Jensen just wants to survive. His stomach rumbles as he washes the soap off his body. Two meals a day – that’s what they’re allowed. It’s what their food supply allows. Kids are the exception, and there’s an unspoken understanding to look the other way if a child takes a snack out of turn.

The remaining water slips down the drain and he pulls the coarse towel off the rack and rubs his body dry. The jeans he pulls on have more holes than fabric now, but they’re still his favorite pair, soft, fitted and comfortable. He eyes his bed regretfully as he starts for the ladder. He’s got a raid to plan before he finds any rest tonight.

The food tent is in full swing, and fifteen or so people are gathered around talking quietly. Chad laughs loudly and shoves Mike away as Chris steals a few beans off Danneel’s plate. There’s a familiarity to it that Jensen finds peaceful, not that he’d ever be caught dead saying that out loud. He’d never hear the end of it.

He approaches the tent and eyes the pot of simmering food. He guesses it’s some type of bean soup. Every time Mike cooks it ends up being some type of soup. He figures Mike throws in whatever he can find and calls it that. Usually there’s a surprise somewhere in the title.

“Jensen, so nice of you to join us,” Mike says as he grabs the ladle and slops some soup into a bowl. The conversation dies down as Jensen eyes it warily.

He says the same thing he always says no matter who’s cooking: “Looks good. Thanks for makin’ dinner.” He keeps his head down as he grabs a spoon and starts for the war room. He hates the term. It was a Chris thing that caught on, and now he’s saying it in his head.

“You could join us, you know,” Chris says quietly, appearing out of thin air at his side. It’s been awhile since his friend has brought up this particular bone of contention, but Jensen’s reply is as steady as it’s always been.

“Can’t.”

“We’ve got a couple of newbies. Might be nice if you say hello,” Chris says. His voice is even and conversational, but Jensen has been able to read him for years. 

“I don’t need a PR person,” Jensen grumbles. What he wants to say is _who gives a shit if I say hello?_ He stops to suck down a couple of spoonfuls of broth and nearly chokes on a bean stem. He winces and eyes the next spoonful. On second thought, he’s not as hungry as he originally thought.

“Just come say hi,” Chris repeats. “It’ll take two seconds.”

Jensen sighs and feels himself give in almost immediately. Chris knows it too, because his mouth contorts into that conniving little smirk that Jensen hates. He follows Chris back to the group, and people move aside to give them room. 

“So,” Chris begins, pointing at a petite young woman. “This is Alice and the little man here is James.” James lifts his head long enough to meet Jensen’s gaze then drops his eyes to the bowl in Jensen’s hands.

“Nice to meet you. Both of you,” Jensen says. He hates it when Chris makes him do this shit. He’s not the camp’s welcome wagon, after all. He’s not antisocial; he just has other stuff to do, like figuring out how to stay alive in a world where the odds are stacked against them. 

“We’ll earn our keep,” Alice blurts out, watching Jensen carefully as if his opinion matters, as if his words carry weight. “I promise you, we’ll earn our keep. I’ll cook, clean, and I can –”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jensen says easily, suddenly wanting to put her at ease. “It’s fine. You’ll be fine. You guys are welcome here.” He knows their open door policy isn’t the norm. Settlements are scattered and resources are scarce. Most people would look at Alice and James and see two more mouths to feed, liabilities in a world where nothing can be taken for granted. The day Jensen looks at innocent people and sees that, he’s going to give up fighting altogether because there’s no point anymore.

Alice eyes him curiously, as if she’s trying to figure out if he’s real or not. 

Jensen clears his throat and sets the bowl on the table in front of James. “I’m not hungry,” Jensen says lamely when Alice looks up at him with wide, questioning eyes. “So, um… yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously, feeling inquiring eyes staring at the back of his head. His cheeks feel warm and he spins on his heel and stalks away so he doesn’t have to see that knowing smirk on Chris’s face that he knows is there. It’s Chris’s fault anyway. He never knows what to say to the new people, and with more and more coming every week, he figures he should probably work it out. Or learn a few new hiding places.

No voices call him back to the group and he’s not surprised. That’s the most social he’s been in a month. The war room is dark when he removes the hatch and climbs down the ladder. It’s the biggest room in the settlement, and they keep their maps and emergency stores of food here. When he first found this place, this was the room he slept in. As more people showed up, he moved to a smaller one, opting to keep this for group planning or whatever. The last thing he wanted was for people to think he ran things around here. It’s childlike reasoning: the person with the biggest bedroom has the most authority, and he isn’t one for false pretenses. As far as Jensen is concerned, if you contribute in some way, you get to stay. He’s yet to come across a single person that hasn’t wanted to help, because in the end, it comes down to survival, and they are stronger in a group. 

The war brought out the worst in some and the best in others. Petty differences were laid aside for a common goal: survival. Most efforts were for naught; the machines were too strong, too fast, armed with weapons meant to bring a nation to its knees. The United States crumbled, and it was assumed that other nations followed a similar path, even though the news stopped broadcasting soon after the war started. Communication was the first thing to go – cell phone towers, broadcasting stations and backbone servers. People were isolated, families were torn apart, and the hope of any type of government intervention died quickly.

Jensen pulls out the city schematics for Phoenix and spreads them across the table; the days of GPS and satellite tracking are gone. They’d tried to raid the city about five months ago and were shut down fast. The machines were still in the city then, in vast numbers. At the time, there were still people to hunt.

He pulls the public school system book down to read the statistics on the schools, trying to find the mark that will hopefully give them biggest score. He trails his finger over the map, plotting the easiest way in and the fastest way out. After crosschecking it with the sewer system just in case they hit trouble, he jots a couple of notes down in the notebook he always keeps handy.

The hatch above is pulled back and Danneel climbs down the ladder using one hand; the other is tucked against her stomach. He’s not surprised to see Chris, Chad and Mike following her down. 

Danneel holds out her hand and offers him two pieces of bread. There’s some type of fruity jam on it, and Jensen doesn’t ask where she got it. “Here.”

There’s a generally accepted rule that if you don’t eat at mealtimes, you don’t eat. It’s easier to keep track of food that way. Jensen refuses to lock the food stores despite Chris grumbling that he probably should. If someone is that hungry, he’s not going to refuse them food.

Jensen eyes the food she’s offering him. “You didn’t have to –”

“Yeah, I know I didn’t. Shut up and eat it anyway,” Danneel replies, lifting her eyebrow when she thinks he might refuse.

He takes the bread from her hand and gives her a half-smile of thanks before stuffing the corner of one piece in his mouth and leaning over the map again. He chews, swallows and repeats, his eyes trailing over the details, mind racing as he jots another note in his book – _75th leads to Martin Luther King Blvd - overpass._

“Gonna clue us in?” Chris asks as he leans over the table on the other side, eyes tracking Jensen’s finger over the worn paper.

“Supply run,” Jensen says after he swallows.

Chris leans back and rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Not that I’m doubting you or anything, but that looks an awful lot like the city.”

Jensen nods. “That’s ‘cause it is.”

“The city?” Chad prompts, suddenly a lot more interested in the conversation. “Maybe I can find some batteries. I’d give your kidney to be able to listen to that CD player I found.”

Mike grins. “Be nice to finally listen to all those CDs you’ve been storing away.”

Jensen can feel Chris’s wariness. It’s palpable in the air. 

“Don’t you remember the last time we tried that? Nearly didn’t come back.”

Jensen remembers. He remembers everything about that day because one of them didn’t come back. He remembers Cindy wandering away from the group, and yelling at her to stay close. He couldn’t get to her in time, and her screams split open the night sky as the machine eviscerated her body right in front of their faces. He remembers his hands shaking as he stitched the gash in Chris’s arm. He remembers not talking for a week as he longed for a bottle of whiskey to dull the ache in his chest. He remembers the pale yet stoic faces of his friends as they realized once again that they were vulnerable, that they were all living on borrowed time.

“We need supplies,” Jensen says, not lifting his gaze from the map. He doesn’t want to see whatever might be lurking in Chris’s eyes. “We need gauze, stitches, ointment, braces – stuff you’re not going find in bumfuck nowhere.”

“And you think the hospitals, what’s left of them, haven’t been raided yet?” Mike asks. 

“We’re not going to the hospital.”

The room falls silent, and Chad leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Okay, I’ll bite. Where are we going?”

“The medical examiner’s office.”

“That’s uplifting,” Mike mutters.

Jensen points to the map. “There’s a high school a block away. We’ll see what they have there, too.” Chances are most things in the school have been picked over, but it’s worth looking. 

“And you got a way to get us in there?” Chris asks.

Jensen leans closer, outlining their way in, the roads and possible escape routes if things get rough. He shows them the way out, what to do if they get separated and all the places to hide in the area if they can’t get back to the vehicles. 

When Jensen pauses to wait for questions, he stuffs the last bit of bread in his mouth. He’s gotten used to eating half of what he once did, but the jam is sugary and sweet on his tongue. He eats now because he has to; it’s a chore like anything else, a necessary task for survival, but this is actually good and he sucks the red jam off the tips of his fingers, barely suppressing a moan of enjoyment at the sweet taste.

Mike clears his throat. “Two things – do you sleep with the fucking maps? How the hell do you plan this shit? And second, we need to find more jam.”

“That was three things,” Chad points out.

Jensen chuckles and waits to see if anyone is going to ask something pertinent to what they’re attempting tomorrow. When no one speaks up, he finishes the same way he always does. “Look, it’s going to be dangerous.”

“Getting out of bed in the morning is fucking dangerous,” Mike says.

“I’m not expecting any of you to go. If you show up tomorrow, great, and if you don’t, no hard feelings. There are no expectations and none of you owe me or anyone else here a damn thing.” When no one responds, Jensen ends with, “I’m pulling out at eight.”

Chad groans. “Ever heard of noon? I thought you weren’t a morning person.”

“I do this purely to piss you off. Makes getting out of bed in the morning worth it,” Jensen says, a smirk curving his lips.

“Asshole,” Chad mutters as he starts for the ladder. “I’m gonna head to bed or you guys will never see me in the morning.”

Mike stretches his arms over his head. “Yeah, me too.” He slaps Chris on the back and shifts to kiss Danneel’s cheek.

Danneel glances between Chris and Jensen. “I guess that’s my cue. Don’t stay up too late.” She smiles at Chris and leans against Jensen’s side for a second in a lazy half-hug.

Jensen waits for several seconds after the hatch is closed before speaking. “You don’t have to come.”

Chris snorts. “Like hell. You know I’m coming.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Cindy was close to Chris. Jensen never asked, but he saw her leaving his room more than once early in the morning when Jensen was just heading for bed. She was special to him, and it was more than just the codependent _we need each other to survive_ sort of way.

“I know you don’t. I just want to make sure you’ve thought this through. It wasn’t your fault last time; none of the fucked up shit that happens around here is your fault.”

Jensen opens his mouth to tell Chris that he knows that, rationally; he knows he’s not responsible for Cindy or anyone else that chooses to live here, but Chris lifts his hand before he can get a word out.

“She got away from the group, didn’t stay with us or stick with the plan, and because of that –”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Jensen knows what happened. He was there.

“I’m just sayin’ we need you there tomorrow, Jensen. All there and not inside your head reliving what happened in the past.” Jensen had already played out the possible endings for the conversation, but trust Chris to throw him a curve ball, because he didn’t see this coming. Chris knocks on the table once, focusing Jensen’s attention. “So, I guess the question is are _you_ ready for this?”

Even if he isn’t ready, it doesn’t matter. There are things they need for the camp, and if they’re going to continue to scrape out some type of existence out here, he has to be ready.

“I’ve been planning this for a while. It’s going to be fine,” he says.

Chris shakes his head and sighs, and Jensen tries to figure out what he said that was wrong. Chris is used to translating his bullshit. “That’s not what I asked.”

“You should know by now, I’m fine. I’m always fine.”

“What you are and what you let people see are two entirely different things.”

Jensen groans and rubs his fingers over his eyelids. “Dude, seriously? Who the fuck are you now, Yoda? Tell me we’re not going there.”

Chris pats him on the shoulder, fingers lingering to squeeze as he passes by, obviously taking pity on him as he heads for the exit. “Get some sleep.”

Jensen gives him a small smile meant as a gesture of thanks. “Yeah. You too.”

After the hatch slides closed, Jensen’s eyes fall to the map again. He’ll go over it one more time just to make sure. 

It’s another four hours before he finds his way to bed.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D3.jpg)

Jensen slings his duffel bag over his shoulder and stalks toward the Jeep. The sun is starting to rise, chasing away shadows with warm light. People are milling around, cleaning away the signs of breakfast before heading out to the fields to check on the crops. Jensen makes a mental note to try to get to the fields tomorrow. Amy waves at him and he gives her a half-smile he knows she can’t see. Maybe they’ll run across some glasses while they’re out. All the pairs he’s brought back haven’t been close to the right prescription.

Chris is leaning against the side of the car, fingers loosely holding his belt loops as he watches Jensen approach. “Did you sleep at all?”

Jensen grunts and slides his aviator sunglasses down to cover his eyes. The last thing he needs is people asking questions.

Chris nods knowingly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“So what are we bitching about this morning?” Mike asks as he wanders up from their other side. 

“The usual,” Chris replies.

Mike levels a finger in Jensen’s direction. “What’d you do now?”

Jensen doesn’t reply. He climbs into the Jeep and slams the door harder than necessary, hoping that will kill the conversation before the guys decide to have another tag team session. Chris clambers in the opposite side and Jensen passes him the ever-present notebook. 

Chad jogs over and pulls on Mike’s shoulder. “Go ride with Danneel.”

“Why?”

Chad shrugs. “Apparently I’ve already managed to piss her off this morning.”

Chris shifts so he can see over his shoulder. “What’d you do to her?”

“Why’s it always gotta be my fault?”

“’Cause it usually is,” Mike replies, slapping Chad on the shoulder as he jogs away. “No worries. I’ll handle it.”

Jensen waits for Mike to reach the van before backing the Jeep out slowly, because the couple of kids that they have running around the camp don’t listen for shit. Chris and Chad wave to the onlookers who have come to see them off, but Jensen keeps his mind on the endless miles of desert ahead of them. The brakes squeak in the van as Danneel and Mike pull out behind them. 

There’s no one on the road when they turn onto the dusty highway. It’s not the same shock it once was. The cars became less and less frequent as time progressed, and now it would be a surprise to see another vehicle out here.

“Be nice to be able to bitch about the traffic again,” Chris muses quietly.

Jensen glances at him out of the corner of his eye. They don’t talk about it, at least he doesn’t. The past is the past, and this is their future. He prefers not to focus on a world they’ll never have again. Nostalgia is pointless, and engaging in a trip down memory lane only distracts him from the present, from what he has to do now.

Chad laughs from the backseat. “Man, it used to take me an hour to go three miles. Rush hour traffic in LA. Never thought I’d miss that shit.”

Chris drops his arm behind Jensen’s seat, resting his hand against the back of headrest. “At least there was a lot of eye candy to keep you occupied.”

“Yeah, now that’s something I miss. Beautiful women as far as the eye could see. It was heaven.”

“Now see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Chris replies. “Country women beat out city chicks any day. Jeans and cowboy boots – that’s where it’s at.”

Chad shakes his head. “No class, man. No class.”

Chris knocks on the back of Jensen’s seat. “What about you?”

Jensen glares at the empty, stretching road ahead, at the burned-out houses and dying landscape. “The radio.”

“How do you get the radio from ‘country women or city chicks?’” Chad asks.

“I miss the radio because I could turn it up and drown out the two of you,” Jensen says.

“You don’t have to be a dick about it,” Chad mutters as he leans back and glares at nothing.

Without having to turn his head, Jensen knows Chris is watching him. He doesn’t know if it’s understanding or disappointment. He figures it’s a combination of both. He lets it go, crams it away in the back of his mind where he puts everything else he figures he should feel bad about but doesn’t have the time or inclination to do so, at least not right now. If they make it out of this trip alive and intact, he’ll consider it later.

The city crests on the hill. Massive buildings loom in the distance, shells of their former glory as they deteriorate and crumble, forgotten monuments of human aptitude. Chris is staring straight forward, eyes tracking the road and nothing else. There’s nothing any of them want or need to see past the road.

“Jesus,” Chad murmurs. Jensen glances in the rearview mirror at Chad, who’s staring without blinking at an annihilated neighborhood, eyes wide.

“Don’t look,” Jensen orders, fingers gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles are bleached white. When Chad doesn’t turn away, the color slowly draining out of his face, Jensen reaches back and grabs his knee, fingers struggling to get a hold at the awkward angle. “Hey, don’t look. Just… don’t.”

When Chad can’t tear his eyes away, Jensen clears his throat and says, “Country women. Or men. Never was that particular.” 

Chris coughs beside him, eyes narrowing as if to say _what the hell are you playing at? You’re gonna do this now?!_

Chad’s mouth snaps closed, and he meets Jensen’s gaze in the mirror. “Country men? _Seriously?_ I never knew that about you. Huh.” His gaze falls to Jensen’s arm that’s twisted back, fingers gripping his knee, and his mouth twists mischievously. 

Jensen’s hand falls away and returns to the steering wheel. “Trust me, not you.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want a piece of this,” Chad says a little too gleefully as he rubs his fingernails against his puffed out chest. 

Chris snickers beside him and relief mixes with amusement when he says, “I think you’ve created a monster.”

“ _Anyone_ but you.”

“Don’t hate, man. I wouldn’t be able to resist me either,” Chad says. Jensen rolls his eyes and returns his gaze to the road now that Chad has some color returning to his cheeks.

“Next exit is ours,” Jensen says, counting the exit ramps because there’s no guarantee there’s going to be any road signs left. 

They drive through the empty streets, carefully navigating their way around broken cars and debris littering the road. Pinnacle High School is on their left and Jensen pulls the Jeep around the back as Danneel passes him on the left and drives to another entrance. Most of the windows are busted out, glass scattering the parking lot and overgrown flowerbeds. 

Jensen parks and slides out the vehicle. “I’m gonna try to find the nurse’s office.”

“Always liked a woman in uniform,” Chad says. Jensen shakes his head and motions for them to follow.

Chris hangs back and grabs Chad’s shoulder as he passes. 

Chad eyes the hand on his arm. “What?”

“I’d see it as a personal favor if you didn’t breathe a word of what Jensen said in the car to anyone else.”

Chad’s eyes widen. “He was serious? Really?” When Chris’s grip tightens on his bicep, Chad shakes his hand off. “I figured he was just spouting crazy shit to make me feel better.”

“And if he wasn’t?” Chris demands, voice low, a challenge shrouding the words.

“It’s fine,” Chad says, shrugging. “I’m from LA, remember? I’ve seen it all before.”

Chris blocks his way when he tries to follow Jensen into the school. “You won’t say anything?”

“No, man. I won’t say anything.” He lifts his hand in a sorry impression of Scout’s honor that comes off looking more like the Vulcan salute from Star Trek. “Not like I’ve ever seen him look twice at anyone before anyway. He’d have half the camp falling at his feet if he’d even show the slightest interest.”

Jensen sticks his head out of the doorway. “Everything all right out here?”

“Yeah, we were just coming,” Chris calls back.

Jensen gives them a disbelieving look that makes Chad look away guiltily. “Well hurry your asses up. We’ve got work to do.”

“Always so bossy,” Chad mutters as he trails behind Chris.

The school is in disarray, chairs upturned and scattering the halls and classrooms. Sunlight shines down where part of the roof is missing and the smell of mold is thick in the air. 

Jensen climbs across a desk that’s blocking the way into one of the science classrooms.

“What are you doing?” Chris calls. “The nurse’s office is probably somewhere close to the front.”

Jensen’s flipping through some of the textbooks, the ones with the least amount of water damage, eyes scanning the pages quickly. 

“A little late for a science lesson, don’t ‘ya think?” Chris says as he rests his arms on the desk.

“I just…” He closes the book, grabs it and a few others before going back to the door, glass crunching under his boots as he walks. “We’ve got kids in the camp,” he says flatly when Chris raises an eyebrow at the books in his arms. No one comments when he takes a couple more from an English classroom.

Most things considered worthwhile for survival have already been looted. Mike and Danneel might be having better luck with the cafeteria, but Jensen isn’t holding his breath. There are a few tools salvageable in the agriculture department, and some packets of seeds that are missing the labels. He hefts a bag of fertilizer over his shoulder and carries it back to the van. 

Chad takes an outdated bottle of Tylenol and a cheap plastic stethoscope from the nurse’s office while Chris explores the machine shop for anything useful. Jensen pulls the biggest set of bolt cutters out of a tool chest and grins when he pulls the handles apart and pushes them closed with a snap.

“Do I want to know what you need those for?” Chris asks curiously.

“Probably not.”

They gather what they can and store it away in the van. Jensen keeps the bolt cutters and slides them under the front seat of the Jeep before he gets in behind the wheel.

“Not much left in the cafeteria,” Mike says as he leans against the side of the van and tries his best not to look disappointed.

Jensen shrugs because he’s not surprised. “I wasn’t expecting much.” It’s not about finding food. That’s a short term solution to a lifelong problem. It’s about finding a way to sustain their existence.

“You guys finish loading up,” Jensen says. “I’m gonna go next door and see if there’s anything worth taking.”

“To the medical examiner’s office,” Chris says flatly.

“That’s just creepy,” Danneel says, rubbing her arms as if fighting a chill.

There’s not much left that freaks Jensen out. He’s seen things he never expected to see, all of them have, and he gave up the moral high ground a long time ago. If there’s something worth taking, he’ll loot it.

“I’ll go with you,” Chris offers. 

Jensen knows his heart isn’t in it. “It’s okay. It’s basically right across the street.”

“Would you let one of us go alone?” Chris asks.

He wouldn’t. That’s rule number one: you never leave the camp alone. If you do leave, you go in a group and you stay in a group. 

“Practice what you preach,” Mike says, winking when Jensen flips him off as he’s passing by. He’s never said he leads by example.

“Siphon some gas from those cars while you’re standing out here doing nothing,” Chris calls over his shoulder as he climbs into the passenger side of the Jeep.

Jensen drives up to Danneel, elbow resting over the door. “Twenty minutes.”

She gives him a sloppy salute. “Aye aye, Captain.”

Jensen looks both ways before crossing over the street, an old, mostly unnecessary habit that he can’t seem to get past. 

The medical examiner’s office is mostly intact: the front office window is missing, but the roof seems to be all there. It’s not the type of place most people would choose to hide out in, which means there’s a good chance whatever’s left hasn’t been picked over a hundred times.

“So, are you expecting some type of ‘coming out of the closet’ gift?” Chris asks.

The question is from so far out in left field that Jensen pauses and glances over his shoulder at Chris, who is pretending to be interested in a cheap island painting on the wall. “Excuse me?”

Chris rubs his chin as if he’s contemplating a piece of fine art, and Jensen resists the urge to lob a stapler at his head. 

“You told Chad you’re bi or into guys or whatever.”

“And?” Jensen tosses back, trying to figure out where the hell Chris is going with this crap. “Do you honestly think any of that matters right now?” When Chris rubs his finger down the cheap wooden frame, Jensen cracks. “Would you turn around and look at me? I refuse to have this conversation with the back of your fat head.”

Chris reluctantly turns around. He’s not one to back down from a confrontation, so whatever is on his mind is something more than just simple frustration. “Did you have to tell him?”

“That’s what this is about?” Jensen snaps, lifting his arms and spreading them wide. “You’re the one telling me to open up to people more. Make up your fucking mind.”

“I figured you’d start with your favorite color, not ‘hey, by the way, do you know that I happen to like fucking guys?’”

Jensen’s head jerks up, his eyes narrowing. “What the fuck, Chris?”

Chris sighs and rubs his hand over his face, massaging his temples using his thumb and the tips of his fingers. “That’s not what I meant.”

Jensen shakes his head. They really don’t have time for this little heart to heart. In fact, Jensen would like to schedule this engaging conversation for sometime during the month of never. “Talk and loot,” he orders as he pushes open the swinging doors to the autopsy bay.

A couple of seconds later Chris follows him, grumbling obscenities under his breath. He’s gathering his thoughts, which is so unlike Chris that Jensen almost wishes he’d told him to wait until they got back to camp. Then he could feign illness, disappear into his bunk and come out sometime next spring.

“What if he wasn’t okay with it?” Chris asks as he picks up a nasty looking hand saw.

“Keep that,” Jensen says. When Chris looks at him cross-eyed, he shrugs. “You never know.” He starts reading the labels on the chemical bottles and wishes he’d paid more attention in high school chemistry instead of trying to score a date with Summer Holland.

Chris bumps his shoulder as he walks past. “You gonna answer my question?” 

Jensen slips packages of various sized sterile needles into his duffel. “He was freaking out, Chris. What was I supposed to do?”

“What you always do – make something up.”

Jensen zips the bag closed and pulls the strap over his shoulder. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?”

“I just don’t want you catching shit for it.”

“Think they’re going to throw me out?” Jensen asks. That hadn’t occurred to him until now. There was a time when being gay meant risking your job, your family and possibly your friends. If Chad decides to run his mouth and tell everyone, there’s a chance that –

Chris cuts across his mental rambling. “Of your own camp? I doubt it.”

“It’s not my camp,” Jensen returns flatly.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.”

The conversation lulls as they scavenge for anything they might have overlooked. Jensen takes all the hand tools he can carry. He has no intention of using them for whatever they were originally made for, but well built tools are priceless.

“It just caught me off guard,” Chris says. “It’s not like I didn’t know you’re… whatever you are. I got more than an eyeful when I busted in on you and Steve making out in the back of my minivan before our set in Portland.”

Jensen chuckles at his friend’s obvious discomfort. He still has no idea why they’re having this conversation. His sexuality has been the farthest thing from his mind for ages. It’s not like he doesn’t have needs - he’s still a guy - but finding their next meal and figuring out how they’re going to irrigate their crops tends to get first priority in his mind. 

“It’s not going to be an issue,” he says, trying to bring the conversation to a close. “It’s not like people are kicking in my hatch to jump in bed with me.”

Chris rebuts Jensen’s comment just a little too quickly, a little too severely. “That’s because you never give anyone the time of day. If you so much as looked at someone twice, you’d be beating them off with a stick.”

Jensen groans. “I’ll give you a thousand dollars to drop this.”

Chris smirks and rests his hip against a metal slab. “We’ve been over this. Your money’s no good here.” His money’s no good anywhere. Not unless you need something to start a fire with. It’s pretty good for that.

“I don’t see you jumping in the sack with anyone.” That’s not entirely true. He’s seen more than one woman leaving Chris’s room early in the morning, but he’s neglected to mention it. They’re all adults, and there’s nothing wrong with seeking companionship once in a while. 

_Companionship?_ He needs to get his head out of ass.

“You don’t see everything, Jenny Bean,” Chris replies, grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

“Hey, Chris, let’s have this conversation never again, okay?” Jensen says. 

Chris opens his mouth to reply, and the cold slab starts to vibrate against his side. A pencil rolls across the floor as deep vibrations start rocking the very foundation of the building.

“Shit,” Jensen mutters as he runs for the door with Chris close on his heels. There’s only one thing that could shake a building like that, and it’s no damn earthquake.

Tires screech in the distance, and Jensen sees the van driving away with the machine trailing behind it. The machine’s not fast; it doesn’t have to be. The lasers take care of that.

“Don’t try to outrun it,” Jensen yells, even though there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell they can hear him. 

The passenger door of the Jeep is hanging open with Chris only halfway inside as they peel out of the parking lot, leaving a trail of rubber on the asphalt. 

“It’s a Street Sweeper,” Chris yells over the sounds of the engine. The foot soldiers were built for combat, for one on one killing. The Sweepers are taller than those, with better equipment and built to withstand heavy artillery. They were designed to do the heaviest damage in the shortest amount of time, to bring the population to its knees by destroying infrastructure. 

The road explodes in the distance and the van veers off down a side street. The machine turns to follow, heavy footsteps vibrating debris around them.

“What are you doing?” Chris yells, craning his head to look down the street as they speed past.

“Getting ahead of it,” Jensen mutters. 

Chris spins on him, eyes wide. “What?”

Jensen hunches down, eyes narrow as he yanks on the wheel, tires squealing in protest as they spin around a curve. “It’s part of the plan.”

“What the fuck kind of plan is this?” Chris yells. “Where the hell was I when you were planning it?”

“Asleep.” Jensen gestures over his shoulder. “Get the harpoon gun.”

“You do realize this is not Jaws, right? That thing shoots lasers out of its eyes. What do you think a –”

“Goddamnit, Chris! Just do it!” Jensen screams. 

When they round the corner, they don’t see the van. There’s debris blocking the road, and Jensen swallows, the pit in his stomach a deepening void as he stomps down on the brake, bringing the Jeep to an abrupt, screeching halt. He hadn’t planned for that, for the road to be blocked, for them not to be able to get out.

The Sweeper sees the Jeep, beady red eyes homing in on its next prey. 

“Come on,” Jensen whispers. He stands up, waving his arms over the top of the windshield. “Come on, you piece of shit! Come get us!”

Chris is tugging on his hip, fingers digging into flesh. “Jesus Christ, Jensen. Sit the fuck down.” The machine lowers its head, and the debris in the road explodes into nothing. “Drive, man. Fucking drive!”

Jensen drops into the seat and slams the gearshift into reverse, foot pressing the pedal flat against the floor. “Get the gun.”

Chris climbs over the seat and pulls the heavy weapon off the floor. “Okay. Now what?”

“Don’t miss.”

“What?” Chris yells, his new default setting. 

“Get it in the leg. The big plate on the side should be fine.”

Chris slides the gun into the mount, checking the settings quickly and lining up the shot. Something thick and gooey covers Chris’s fingers and he eyes the sticky, yellow substance carefully. “I swear if we live through this…”

“Fire out of the back and don’t get caught in the cable,” Jensen instructs as he switches gears and spins the Jeep around, tires screeching. 

The machine appears about fifty yards away. It starts in their direction, steps heavy and measured as the earth rocks around them.

“What are you waiting for?” Chris snaps.

“For it to take a shot,” Jensen says. His foot hovers over the gas, fingers twitching from the strength of his grip on the wheel.

“You’re waiting for what? You want it to shoot at us? Are you fucking insane?” Chris yells.

It’s a standoff worthy of the old big budget Hollywood action movies that once graced silver screens around the world; the machine ambles forward, each blast closer than the last. It’s not a sharp shooter, but its intention is clear: destroy anything human.

Jensen’s counting in his head. “Get ready,” he yells. _Three, two, one…_

The ground explodes behind them as Jensen floors the gas and the engine roars. “Stick it in the leg!”

Chris takes aim and the harpoon slices through the air, cable flying out after it, and it sticks. It barely perforates the thick metal plate of the machine’s leg, but the industrial strength glue holds strong. Bullseye. The Jeep turns around the machine, circling its legs as explosions rock the ground after them. It looks like it’s working, layer after layer of cable encasing the heavy legs of the Sweeper. The next blast takes off the side mirror, and that’s enough. The next one will be the kill shot. Jensen cuts the wheel hard to the right, the cable disconnecting from the roll on the back.

Lasers flash past them and a building explodes to their left. The next sound they hear is twenty tons of powerful steel hitting the ground.

“Holy shit!” Chris hollers, twisting in his seat so he can see over his shoulder. “Holy shit! That fucking worked! How the fuck did that work?”

Jensen drives back the other way, hoping to see the van, to see signs of some kind of life. Chris slaps him on the back for a job well done.

The two-lane street is still deserted, shadowed by the crumbling buildings on both sides. 

“There’s no debris,” Chris says quietly. “If it got ‘em, there’d be something.”

A Sweeper makes houses dissolve into little more than dust and ash. A van wouldn’t even be a blip on its radar. 

Bringing his fingers to his lips, Jensen lets out a loud, shrill whistle that makes Chris wince and rub his ear.

Headlights flash ahead, shining brightly against the back of a former Walgreens. Jensen closes his eyes. The relief that floods his body is enough to make him stop breathing. The van pulls out ahead of them, and they follow it to the main street where the machine lies still, eyes no longer red.

Danneel rolls down her window as Jensen pulls up on the side of the van. All three of them are firing questions a mile a minute.

_“What the fuck happened?”_

_“You took it down? How in the hell did you do that?”_

_“Jesus fuck!”_

Jensen cuts across them. “It’s offline, and we have to get outta here before it’s back online. Let’s go.” He doesn’t give them time to respond, just pulls ahead and leaves them to follow, yelling more questions in his wake.

“All right, start talking,” Chris says after they pass the outer limits of the city. “Where the hell did you come up with that?”

Jensen rubs his mouth on his shoulder, trying to get the dust off his lips. “Ever seen Star Wars?”

“Star Wars,” Chris replies flatly. “You took out a Street Sweeper using a move you saw on Star Wars.”

“Actually, you took it out. You made the shot. I always knew that redneck, backwoods upbringing would come in handy.”

Chris grins at him, all teeth, expression carefree. It’s a good look for him, Jensen decides. “It’s the timing, man. You always manage to get it right.”

Jensen doesn’t reply, letting the praise wash off of him. It’s not that he feels like he doesn’t deserve it, he just knows it doesn’t matter at the end of the day. He’s not looking to be anyone’s hero. He doesn’t want the responsibility.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but –”

“You’re right,” Jensen interjects. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“You’re not going to ruin this for me,” Chris replies, dropping his arm across the back of Jensen’s seat. “I’ve been waiting a long time to see one of those fuckers go down.” 

This was the first time they’d gone after a Sweeper. They’d taken down foot soldiers before, but it was a rarity, because to Jensen, knowing when to run is the better part of valor. His theory has kept him alive this long, which is proof enough to him that it works. 

The camp is quiet as Jensen parks next to the underground storage compartment. Signs of life start to appear when Jensen opens the door to the back of the Jeep and starts to unload. He’s already making his mental to-do list for tomorrow.

The van hasn’t even rolled to a stop when Chad jumps out, arms waving. “A fuckin’ Sweeper! You took down a fuckin’ Sweeper!”

“With a move we learned from Star Wars,” Chris says, grinning as Mike gives him a high five.

“That just makes it more awesome,” Chad says.

“We’ve got to celebrate,” Mike decides. “Wine, women and song!”

“I’m down with all three of those,” Chris agrees, waggling his eyebrows in Danneel’s direction.

“I’ll take the former and latter, thank you very much,” Danneel says as she playfully pushes Chris away.

“Dude, seriously, we need to talk about this,” Chad says as Jensen passes by with an armful of bottles and plastic containers. “You took down a Sweeper today. There’s a chance we could –”

“No,” Jensen says flatly.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Chad huffs.

“I don’t have to know,” Jensen replies as he pulls himself out of the manhole in the ground. “I’m sure it was going to be something dangerous and equally stupid.”

“Jensen, easy,” Chris warns.

“What’s your problem?” Chad snaps. “You guys brought a Sweeper to its knees today. You should be fuckin’ ecstatic.”

“And do you know why we did?” Jensen says, his voice dropping dangerously low as he steps into Chad’s personal space. Chad backs up, pressing against the side of the van, and Jensen follows him so they’re nearly sharing the same air. “That thing wasn’t going to stop until you guys were dead. Either we stopped it or I’d be gathering your ashes right now to spread across that pot plant you love so much. I’d have run if I’d thought we could get away. You guys hear me?” Jensen steps away, eyes traveling to each member of the group before meeting Chad’s gaze head on. “You always run when you can. You run and you stay alive.” He steps back again, feeling exhaustion and weariness pricking at his eyes. This is not how he wanted the day to end, with him dropping a bomb on everyone’s good mood. “I’m gonna take a shower. Finish unloading if you want or… don’t worry about it. I’ll just get it tomorrow.”

They watch him go, people stepping back to give him as much room as possible. 

“That went well,” Danneel comments when Jensen disappears through the hatch into his room.

“He knows about Betsy?” Chad says gloomily, referencing his much loved marijuana plant.

“There’s not a whole lot that goes on around here that Jensen doesn’t know about,” Chris says. 

Mike rubs the top of his head, staring at the ground as if he’s unsure of his next question. “So is he right?”

Danneel sighs. “The last camp I was at was attacked about two months after I got there. I was the only survivor.”

Chris swallows. “Fuckin’ hell.”

“You never said that before,” Mike says. 

“That’s because we don’t talk about where we came from because the story’s always the same. You find a place and sooner or later the machines show up,” Danneel says. “You guys know how it ends.” Her voice is even and devoid of all emotion. Those tears have already been shed.

“We don’t answer to him,” Chad says belligerently. 

Chris glares in his direction. “Do you really believe that?”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t like to see every one of those machines destroyed. God knows I’d give up my life tomorrow if I thought we could stop it, but what chance do we really have?” Danneel says.

“And if Jensen says no, well…” Mike shrugs. “He’s kept us alive this long.”

“Exactly,” Danneel agrees. “He’s proven himself more than once. Hell, he proves himself every day.”

“If we go, he’ll go with us,” Chris says. Jensen would never let them out of his sight if he knew they were going after the machines, intent on hellfire and destruction. Even if he didn’t agree, he’d still fight by their side. He’d fight to keep them alive.

Mike shakes his head. “There’s no way.”

“That he’d go?” Chad asks.

“That we could risk him,” Danneel clarifies. “He’s the heart and soul of this place. He makes it work. It’s the best camp I’ve lived in since the war, and I don’t think I’m ready to give that up yet.”

“So you’re saying I should apologize,” Chad says as his head drops against the side of the van with a thud.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Chris says. “He’s not expecting it.”

Mike stares out at the sun slowly descending behind the outlying trees. “Grants no quarter and expects none in return?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Chris mumbles.

Chad claps his hands together, trying to bring some enthusiasm back to the group. He’s never one to stay down for long. “All right, let’s finish unloading this shit. We’re still gonna celebrate tonight.”

“Any chance dear old Betsy will make an appearance?” Mike asks, bumping Chad’s shoulder as they start pulling supplies out of the van.

“You know Betsy never turns down a good party,” Chad replies, grinning. 

In a world where surviving the day is an accomplishment, taking down a Sweeper is something that’s never been seen before, and celebrate they do. Late in the night, after they’ve all eaten until they’re feeling content and lethargic, Betsy’s offering is passed around as Chris lazily strums the strings of his guitar. Alice and Danneel hum along as Chad and Mike talk quietly in the background. 

Occasionally one of them gets up to stoke the fire and cast a sidelong glance toward where Jensen’s room is. The hatch stubbornly refuses to open, and no one is surprised when their unofficial group leader doesn’t join them.


	2. Chapter 2

Jared jerks awake, head slamming against the car window. “Son of a bitch,” he growls as he rubs the aching spot on the side of his face.

“Easy,” Misha soothes. “Should I ask what you were dreaming about?”

Jared shakes his head and checks his fingertips for blood, which, thankfully, there isn’t any. “Same as always.” He squints at the horizon; the sun has risen and is lazily making its way across the sky. He’s guessing it’s sometime around midmorning, if that even matters. “How long did I sleep?” He figures that’s a better question to ask than _what time is it?_ Misha always looks at him funny when he asks that.

“About three hours as the crow flies,” Misha replies.

Jared snickers because Misha’s nothing if not predictable, even if his predictability rests in riddles and fancy prose. “So three hours, more or less.”

“Perhaps less than more.”

Jared groans. “I haven’t been awake long enough for this.”

Misha starts humming a tune Jared has never heard and isn’t sure if it’s even the melody of an actual song. Misha’s random like that. He’s a good guy, though. More than a good guy. He’d picked Jared up off the side of the road four days ago when Jared was thirsty and thought he wouldn’t make it another night. He’d been traveling for days on foot after a car he’d taken had run out of gas somewhere in the middle of backwoods nowhere. He’d found a group of people hiding out in a dilapidated Wal-Mart warehouse and had been chased off at gunpoint; people aren’t willing to share to share what little food they have left, and Jared can’t find it in himself to blame them. Charity isn’t how you survive anymore, and this world doesn’t give out points for being a good person. 

So when Misha pulled off on the side of the road and asked if he knew the way to Disneyland, Jared just stared at the beat up PT Cruiser and wondered if this guy was insane or actually an angel in disguise. As it turns out, he’s a little of both.

Jared had asked him where he was heading, and Misha had responded _does it really matter?_ When Misha passed him a bottle of water without being asked, Jared decided he’d follow him to the end of the earth if that’s where he was going.

Jared started driving on the third day because Misha couldn’t hold his head up any longer. Misha stubbornly refused to stop, even with the increased risk of machine activity at night. He thought Misha had long since fallen asleep when the man starting talking, voice muffled where he’d pressed his face against his folded up jacket. “There’s this place, somewhere out west, that welcomes everybody. They’ve got food, crops, and real beds. It’s supposed to be the most beautiful place in the world.”

Jared bit his lip, unable to make out Misha’s face in the dark. “Do you think it actually exists?”

“I think it’s worth trying to find out,” Misha replied.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D4.jpg)

Jared’s lost count of how long they’ve been traveling. The days bleed into nights and all he knows is that his body isn’t going to hold up if they don’t get out of this car. Their fuel supply is running dangerously low; all the cans Misha had stored in the back are running dry. He doesn’t give up on the idea of some mecca out there somewhere, some place where people are still welcomed, but he doubts they’ll ever find it.

It’s been over a week since they’ve seen another human being, which is why he screams bloody murder when Misha almost sideswipes a yellow Jeep that darts across the road. Jared’s got his arms braced on the ceiling of the car, and he turns to stare wide-eyed at Misha, who’s looking equally shocked.

“Do we follow him?” Misha asks. They turn in unison to see the brake lights of the Jeep as it idles about thirty yards away. 

“We’re almost out of fuel,” Jared points out.

“And you think they’re going to offer us some?” Misha asks. He sounds more curious than condescending and Jared appreciates his positive attitude.

“Who knows? Maybe this is that nirvana you’ve talked so much about.”

“In the desert?” Misha shrugs and turns to follow the Jeep. “Stranger things have happened.”

They follow the vehicle slowly, miles into the barren wilderness, careful to give it enough distance in case they have to turn tail and run. It happened to them almost two weeks ago when a couple tried to hijack the Cruiser. The sad thing was that Misha would have let them come along if they hadn’t pulled a knife and tried to steal the car.

Misha parks about twenty feet from the Jeep, and they stay in the car with the engine running. A skinny man with blond, spiky hair ambles over and knocks on Jared’s window. Jared blinks twice and glances at Misha before rolling the window down slowly.

“S’up?”

“Um… hi,” Jared replies cautiously.

“Name’s Chad,” the man offers, nodding once in their direction.

“Misha and Jared,” Jared says, pointing at Misha first, then himself. 

“Where ‘ya heading?” Chad asks.

“Mecca,” Misha replies quickly. 

Chad smirks, tapping his fingers against the car door thoughtfully. “Mecca, huh? Well, let me know if you find it and I’ll join you.” A loud whistle echoes across the empty landscape, and Jared cranes his neck to see where it’s coming from. “Lunchtime,” Chad announces and ambles away.

Jared watches him go, more confused than when they almost T-boned the Jeep on the highway. “Was that an invitation?”

Misha shrugs and opens the car door. “Why don’t we go find out?”

Jared can’t remember the last time he’s had anything resembling a decent meal, so at this point he’s more than willing to try his luck. If they’re asked to go, he and Misha will leave without comment. “People don’t give out free food,” Jared points out as he trails along beside Misha.

There is a group of twenty or so people milling around and talking quietly amongst themselves. Jared feels inquiring gazes tracking their movements, but it doesn’t feel unwelcome or aggressive, just curious, as if asking _who are the new guys?_ No one looks particularly surprised that there are newcomers joining them, and Jared takes that for a good sign.

Jared stops before he gets to the pot of simmering kale and some type of soup sitting next to it with a ladle resting just below its surface. He’s not just going to take these people’s food without introducing himself. His momma taught him better than that.

“I’m Jared and this is Misha,” he announces, gesturing between him and his travel companion. 

“They almost ran me off the road,” Chad offers, grinning when Jared rubs the back of his neck nervously. Making a spirited attempt at killing someone is usually not the best way to make nice with the locals.

“Not surprising,” one man replies. “You can’t drive for shit.” He nods in Jared’s direction. “I’m Mike.”

A woman picks up a child who’s making a determined attempt to stick his hand into the simmering soup and rests him on her hip. “I’m Alice and this is James.”

Introductions flow freely after that, people offering names and friendly smiles which Jared returns in kind.

“Come on, let’s eat,” Danneel says and shoves a bowl into Jared’s hands. She passes a bowl to Misha and pours a generous amount of soup in. “Be sure to eat your greens,” she instructs, pointing to the kale.

“Has everyone else gotten some?” Jared asks. Misha pauses with the spoon halfway to his mouth.

Chad chuckles. “It’s fine, man. Don’t worry about it.”

Misha blinks several times, drops his spoon in the bowl and pinches Jared’s side.

“Ouch! What the hell?” Jared yells, trying to rub away the sting.

“Just checking to see if this is real.”

“So you pinch me,” Jared grumbles.

Chad grins and points his spoon in their direction. “I like these guys.”

“We like you, too,” Misha agrees as he stares at his bowl like he’s contemplating licking it clean. He doesn’t get the chance before Danneel drops another ladleful into the bowl, smiling brightly at Misha’s gleeful cheer.

“You don’t know him yet,” Mike says. “Give it time. You’ll grow to hate him just like the rest of us.” It’s said without any malice; just friends badgering each other, and to Jared it’s like balm to a weary soul.

“Hey!” Chad yells. 

They help with the dishes, washing them in a tub of soapy water and laying them in a clear, plastic covered bin to dry in the sun. Jared spends the afternoon talking to Chad, discussing music and shit that doesn’t matter anymore but feels good to talk about anyway. Misha has wandered off with Mike and Danneel to discuss problems with the irrigation system. How Misha knows about irrigation systems, Jared isn’t sure, but he goes with it.

They come back together in the early evening, and Jared helps Alice with dinner. It’s more kale with rice this time, and it looks even more delicious than lunch.

“So, uh, how do things work around here?” Jared asks.

Chad stops stirring the pot to look at him. “Whaddya mean?”

Jared meets Misha’s gaze in a silent question – _should we ask?_ Misha’s head barely tilts, just a mute acknowledgment. “If we, uh, maybe wanted to stick around awhile, do you think we could? I mean, is there someone we should ask?”

The group shares a few collective glances. It’s like a silent conversation going on all around them. “No one runs this place directly, if that’s what you’re asking,” Danneel says.

“I’m sensing there’s a ‘but’ in that sentence,” Misha says. “What’s a sentence without a good but?”

“It’s a democracy around here,” Mike says. “You pull your weight and don’t act like an asshole –”

“All the time,” Chad clarifies.

Mike nods. “Don’t act like an asshole all of the time, you should be fine.”

“Is this everybody?” Misha asks, gesturing to the group.

Danneel shakes her head just as a four-wheeler rumbles up beside them, kicking up a cloud of dust. “Damn it, Chris!”

The man smirks and kills the engine on the ATV. He’s dirty, sweat beading across his forehead as he climbs off the back and starts untying a bundle of kale from the back. His shoulder-length hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, and his eyes are glinted by the sun. When his gaze falls heavy on Jared, Jared figures this is it. They’re gonna be asked to leave.

“Picking up strays again,” Chris says, his voice even.

“I’m Jared,” he says in a rush as he quickly sticks out his hand. Chris eyes his outstretched arm before he steps forward and grabs Jared’s hand in a firm shake. Jared grabs Misha’s shoulder and pulls him forward. “This is Misha.”

“Misha? Interesting name.”

“I’d like to hope I have a personality to match,” Misha replies.

Chris doesn’t smile; his lips don’t move as he reaches for Misha’s hand. Jared swallows nervously as Chris assesses them, dark eyes raking over them more than once. “You’re a big guy,” Chris says eventually. “Are you good doing manual labor?”

“Manual labor, carrying very heavy things, first aid, whatever you need,” Jared says in a rush as if he’s justifying his mere existence.

“First aid, huh?” Chris muses, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Yep,” Chad says. “He even taught it for Red Cross.” Chad nudges Danneel, like this is a detail she’d be particularly interested in hearing, before adding, “Where he volunteered.” Jared’s not sure how Chad remembers that; he casually mentioned it when he talked about patching up a burn on Misha’s arm that he got when the car broke down.

“Could be useful,” Chris murmurs. He sounds like he’s talking to himself, so Jared doesn’t respond. 

Apparently he doesn’t have to, because Chad says, “Definitely useful. Very useful.”

Chris chuckles. “I’m not the one you have to impress, kid.”

Jared’s about to ask to be pointed in the direction of whoever it is that he has to impress, because he really doesn’t want to leave this incredible place that’s filled with amazing people that are willing to share their food with complete strangers.

“Smells good, Danni,” Chris comments, moving past Jared as if the whole conversation is over, and if the jury is still out, Jared’s not sure.

“Alice cooked,” Danneel says. “If it was me, you’d be eating soup again.”

The sun is setting, casting shadows across the plains as they tuck into their food. There’s food left in the pot when they finish serving, and Jared listens to the conversation drifting around him, voices warm and content; a meal shared amongst friends. An engine sounds in the distance, and Jared thinks it’s another four-wheeler. No one seems alarmed, so he continues to eat, watching as people shift their gaze to see the newcomer’s arrival.

Despite the hazy evening, Jared can see a man sliding off the four-wheeler. He’s not wearing a shirt, muscles stretching as he presses his hands to his lower back for support and leans back, mouth slightly open as he groans softly.

A collective silence falls over the group, but Jared doesn’t sense fear. If anything, it feels more like peace, and maybe a touch of hope. 

“Is he going to join us?” Danneel whispers.

The man nods once to the group and a couple of people wave back. He makes his way through the shadows like he’s done it a thousand times before and slips beneath the surface of the ground, disappearing from sight.

“Guess not,” Chris replies, sighing.

“He’s been working all day,” Danneel replies angrily. “He needs to eat something.”

“You gonna tell him?” Chris asks.

Danneel considers this, weighing her options silently. “Fine, but he’s eating a big breakfast whether he likes it or not.”

The conversation picks up after that, moving past the strange man in the darkness that wouldn’t join the rest of the group. Chad nudges Jared’s knee and nods in the direction the man went. “That was Jensen,” Chad says quietly. “And it’s his place.”

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D1.jpg)

It’s still dark, just the first signs of hazy morning light slipping across the sky, when Jared pushes the hatch open and pulls his body through the man hole. Misha continues snoring, an arm and a leg tossed over the side of the small cot. Jared’s never been a late sleeper, always preferring to meet his day head on. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, but he figures he can find whoever’s on breakfast duty and offer an extra pair of hands.

The camp is silent. If he didn’t know better, he would have no idea that anyone lives here, because the couple of broken down pole barns are nothing out of the ordinary. If Misha hadn’t nearly run over Chad, they’d never have known there was a whole community hidden underground nearly five miles away from anything resembling a normal road.

He peers into the darkness when he hears the screech of a hatch being opened. It’s not one of the rooms that he saw people disappearing into last night, but that doesn’t mean anything. He steps farther into the shadows, holding his breath even though at this distance it would impossible for someone to hear him breathing. 

A man climbs out of the underground room, a couple of books tucked under his arm, and Jared narrows his eyes as if that will hone his vision so he can see better. 

It’s Jensen, the man from last night who refused to join the group. Jared considers going up to him and properly introducing himself, asking what he can do to help, but there’s something about the guy, a back-off vibe that seems to radiate from the center of his being. There was a time when Jared would have approached anyway and fallen over himself to get to know the man better, but considering the way things are now, the way the world is now, Jared needs a place to live more than he needs new friends.

He remembers Danneel’s promise to make sure Jensen has a huge breakfast. When Jensen climbs onto the ATV, Jared figures that promise was made in vain. He watches, still concealed in the shadows, when the engine turns over and drives away. It’s another hour before the camp shows any signs of life.

Breakfast is a quiet affair; most people are still bleary eyed while the day’s activities are planned. Jared stays quiet, trying to learn where each person fits in and figure out where he might be the most help. At this point, he’s willing to do just about anything.

“You’re looking a little too bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning,” Chad comments after he swallows a bite of bread.

Jared shrugs and takes the piece of crusty loaf Chad offers him. “Always was an early riser.”

“We’re gonna have to break you of that bad habit,” Chad says, even though everyone knows fighting the machines is near impossible at night so just about everything has to be done during the day. Jared smiles at Chad’s joke anyway.

“You’d sleep the day away if we let you,” Mike comments, shoving Chad out of the way to get some food.

Chris joins them, slipping between Mike and Danneel. “Speaking of sleeping the day away, who wants to wake Jensen?”

Chad groans. “I did it last week and got a boot tossed at my head. Never again.” He nudges Danneel. “You do it. He’s less likely to hurt you.” 

So he’s antisocial and violent. Awesome, Jared thinks.

“I won’t repeat what he said to me last time I told him to get his lazy ass outta bed,” Mike says. “I ain’t going near there.”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Chris suggests.

“Hell no,” Mike replies, shaking his head. “You always cheat.”

“Um… guys?” Jared says quietly, trying not to speak out of turn. When everyone turns to look at him, he swallows. “It’s probably not an issue, but he’s already gone.” Wind howls through the camp, and Jared watches a lone tumbleweed roll by. It’s like being on the set of an old Clint Eastwood western. 

“When?” Chris prompts.

“About an hour ago,” Jared says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction Jensen went. “He took one of the four-wheelers.”

“I swear I’m gonna put a bell around his neck,” Chris grumbles before stuffing the rest of his breakfast in his mouth. For a second Jared thinks he’s going to choke, but Chris manages to get it down with two big swallows.

“Chances are he didn’t sleep last night,” Danneel huffs. “I swear I’m going to start sleeping with him just to make sure he actually stays in bed more than ten minutes.”

Mike raises his hand. “I have trouble sleeping.”

“Dude, you’re sawing logs the second your head hits the pillow,” Chad replies, rolling his eyes.

“If you’re so concerned –” Jared starts, then quickly snaps his mouth closed when he realizes he has no business saying what he’s about to say. Chris waves at him to continue. “Well, why don’t you just talk to him? Tell him you’re worried or… whatever.” 

Chad actually laughs in his face, and Mike smirks like Jared’s just said the stupidest thing ever. “Yeah, that’s rich, man. We’ll just talk to Jensen.”

“Stage an intervention,” Chris agrees mockingly. “Danneel, bring the tissues.”

Mike pulls it together first. “Jared, you don’t just talk to Jensen.” 

“Not if you want your head to remain attached to your shoulders,” Chad agrees. 

So this Jensen guy is an asshole and everyone’s afraid to approach him. Jared figures if it wasn’t Jensen’s place, people would be a lot quicker to speak their minds around the man. Not rocking the boat must be the status quo.

It becomes clear no one is going to go after him, and Jensen is best left to his own devices. 

“We know we’ll see him tonight at least,” Mike offers as breakfast is being cleared away.

“Why’s that?” Jared asks.

Chad smiles and slaps Jared on the back excitedly. “It’s Thursday!”

Jared lost track of the days a long time ago and since Chad’s bouncing beside him, barely able to contain his excitement, Jared feels a little silly for prompting, “And that’s important because…”

“Fireside chat night,” Mike says, stealing Chad’s thunder.

Jared’s heard about the chats from other people he’s met along the way. From what he’s learned, it’s a series of radio broadcasts coined after President Franklin Roosevelt’s famous fireside chats from the thirties. Since all major methods of communication were destroyed in the first few months of the war, ham radio is the only thing left.

“Wow,” Jared says, feeling pretty overwhelmed at the thought of being able to talk to other people. “Do you guys use it for communication?”

Chris shakes his head. “No. Can’t be too careful, you know? Who knows who could be listening?” Jared thinks Chris should amend that sentence to _what_ could be listening. The fucking machines are always listening.

“So what do you talk about?” Jared asks.

Danneel shrugs. “Whatever the speaker wants. Sometimes the person tells a story; sometimes they read a book or an article.” 

It seems pretty silly to Jared, a waste of valuable communication, until that evening when he hears an older woman reading a chapter from one of the Harry Potter books. They’re gathered around the radio, pressing against each other and hanging on every word. Jared closes his eyes and lets the story take him away.

The woman finishes with a soft, “Stay safe out there.”

Danneel pulls her feet underneath her and pushes off the floor to turn the radio off. They spend the next fifteen minutes discussing dueling wizards and how badass it would be to be able to fly. Misha recounts his childhood attempts at building a flying machine, which has everyone rolling on the floor laughing in a matter of minutes. Apparently the flying machine came to an abrupt and tragic ending when it crashed into their neighbor’s pool cage and took the whole thing down. 

All in all, Jared decides, it was a damn good day. 

He forgets to ask if Jensen ever joined them.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D2.jpg)

Jensen rolls out of bed before daybreak. If people keep joining them, they’re going to have to work out other living arrangements, because if he’s doing the math right, they’ve only got room for roughly five more, and he knows he won’t be able to turn anyone anyway. He hasn’t done it yet, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to start now.

He figures he should make an appearance at breakfast, because Chris gave him an earful for the disappearing act he pulled the other day. Usually Chris won’t outright call him on his bullshit, but Jensen was told to leave a fuckin’ note next time he decides to pull his Houdini act. Jensen doesn’t blame him. He couldn’t even muster a believable excuse save he’s got a lot of shit to do, and unless enough food for a year magically appears in their storage facility, everyone needs to get off his back.

He doesn’t shower; he knows he’ll be filthy by the end of the day and he figures a trip to the river wouldn’t be remiss because they should refill their water stores. He also needs to check the early warning systems that are surrounding the camp. In addition to that, he needs to check the watch duty schedule Mike has drawn up because he knows he hasn’t had a day in at least a week. He shakes his head to clear his mind: one thing at a time.

Daylight is just breaching the horizon, coloring the sky with shades of pink and blue. He sees Jared fumbling with breakfast, dragging out the plates and silverware. Chris and Danneel had filled him in on the newcomers and spoke quite highly of both of them. Chad seemed especially taken with Jared, and Jensen had grinned to himself when he’d seen Chad following Jared around, laughing loudly at whatever he said.

Jensen had seen Jared watching him the first morning after he’d arrived. Jensen didn’t say hello, and since Jared didn’t approach him, he figured it was probably better that way. He has a mutual understanding with most members of the camp. Usually only Chris or Danneel force him to have some human contact now and again.

Jensen doesn’t think of himself as antisocial or standoffish. He’s just got a lot on his mind, things to do and tasks to finish, his to-do list growing every second of the day. He takes off on the four-wheeler before anyone else stumbles out into the dim morning light.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D3.jpg)

Jared spins around in time to see the ATV race away in the crisp dawn. He shakes his head as he watches Jensen disappear in a cloud of dust. He doesn’t know the guy from Adam, but would it actually hurt him to say hello? They’ve been here for almost a week and Jensen’s been no more than a ghost, leaving in the early morning hours or, he’s heard from Danneel, succumbing to exhaustion after Chris threatened to sit on him, and sleeping the afternoon away.

He mentioned it to Misha last night. “What’s Jensen’s deal?” he asked when they were alone in their underground room.

“You mean besides working all day and generally being seen and not heard?” Misha replied, lifting an eyebrow curiously when Jared huffed at him.

“I’m just saying it’d be nice to actually meet the guy,” Jared replied, pointedly looking away from Misha’s inquiring gaze. “From what I gather, he’s basically an asshole.”

“So why do you want to meet him?” Misha asked.

Jared shrugged; score one for Misha. “I don’t know.” And truthfully, he doesn’t. No one talks about Jensen much. It’s more just in passing – _has he eaten? Where’s he working? Maybe someone should see if he needs something._

Jared’s usually not the type of person who judges before he actually meets someone, but he’s got a pretty good handle on who Jensen is. Jared figures Jensen is the kind of guy who rules with an iron fist. He must be ruling from behind the scenes, though, because Jared’s only seen the guy from a distance.

Cool fingers press against his arm, and Jared nearly jumps out of skin. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Danneel says apologetically as she rubs his bicep gently. She glances past him at the food he’s started to prepare. “Oh, honey. You didn’t have to do this. Not that I don’t appreciate it.”

He wonders if he should ask her about Jensen. If he’s the one running the camp, Jared figures he should know as much as he can about the guy. “Hey, Danneel…” He lets it hang in the air unfinished because he suddenly feels stupid, like he might be speaking out of turn. 

“What?” she prompts as she tears bread into smaller pieces.

Jared swallows and presses on. “About Jensen…”

Danneel lifts her head, her eyes narrowing. Her words are clipped when she says, “What about him?”

Jared knows he shouldn’t put her in this position. It’s obvious she’s uncomfortable, maybe even a little nervous. If she’s afraid of Jensen, he shouldn’t force her to talk about it. “Nothing,” he says, shrugging and giving her a small smile. “Never mind.”

“What were you going to ask, Jared?”

“Um…” _Think fast_. “Do you know what his favorite breakfast food is?”

Danneel stops, her hands full of bread, and stares at him. Soon she chuckles. “Yeah, whatever he doesn’t have to cook.” 

So he’s lazy, too, Jared thinks. “Well, good thing he never cooks, then.”

Danneel looks at him sideways as if she’s going to say something else, then rolls one shoulder awkwardly. “Yeah, good thing.”

Jared moves the conversation to safer topics – the hot as hell weather – and Danneel rolls with it. People start filtering in for breakfast, eager to fill their stomachs with crusty bread and more kale, and the camp comes to life around him.

“Dude, Wolverine could totally take Cyclops,” Chad argues.

“Cyclops shoots death rays out of his eyes,” Jared replies. “Wolverine wouldn’t even get close.”

“Wolverine would just heal himself then claw out Cyclops’s eyes while he slept,” Chad grumbles, refusing to give in.

Jared inclines his head, thinking. Well, he hadn’t considered that scenario. “Touché.”

Chad grins and bumps his shoulder. “Heh. Knew I’d get you eventually.”

Danneel shrieks behind them, and Jared nearly drops his plate in the dirt. Chad spins around, arms raised like he’s about to karate chop someone. Danneel’s holding a bucket, peering at the contents, and Jensen’s standing in front of her, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks like he wants to disappear.

She lifts her hand and succulent, plump blackberries slip between her fingers. “When did you have time to pick all these?”

“Um, this morning?” Jensen offers. “There’s a patch about a mile from camp.”

Danneel shakes her head, smiling wide, and leans forward to press a kiss to his cheek. Huh. She doesn’t look like she’s afraid. If anyone looks scared, it’s Jensen.

“Come on, let’s get these washed,” Danneel says, dragging Jensen along by his arm.

“I’ll take care of it,” Mike offers, reaching out to take the bucket from Danneel. “You guys eat.”

“No, really, it’s…” Jensen watches sadly as the bucket is carried away, and eventually allows Danneel to push him into a seat. 

Danneel piles an enormous amount of food on his plate, more than any single person could eat, and Jensen quietly thanks her and scrapes half of the food onto James’s plate as soon as her back is turned. Jensen’s younger than Jared thought he’d be; he’s tan and muscular from long days spent working in the sun. People fill in the spaces around him almost immediately, and Jared half listens to the conversation around him. Jensen says no more than five words throughout the meal, just offering the occasional nod or hum of acknowledgment. 

Jared figures he’ll withhold judgment on the camp leader until he’s gathered further evidence. His momma always said he’d make a good detective.

He’s supposed to go to the fields today with Chad, and he’s anxious to start actually pulling his weight around the camp. Thus far he’s carried heavy things – a lot of heavy things – and helped with the meals and cleanup. Not that that’s not important, but he’d like to see how they manage to keep everything running; how they keep food on the table and enough clean water for people to drink. He’d also like to see some of the security systems that Chris has mentioned, but he hasn’t gotten up the courage to ask. He knows there are things they haven’t shown him yet, and he hopes one day they’ll trust him enough to share.

Raised voices pull his attention away from the last of the breakfast dishes he’s cleaning, and he jogs over to see what all the commotion is about. It’s the first time he’s heard yelling since he and Misha arrived.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Jensen barks. Jared skids to a halt, trying to hang back and hear what’s going on without being too obvious. 

“Why are you being so difficult about this?” Mike replies. It’s obvious he’s trying to keep his irritation in check. Chad’s glancing nervously between the two men like he’s unsure whose side he’s on, but he seems to be leaning in Mike’s direction.

Apparently Jensen has no such qualms with letting his frustration show. “Fix it. That’s all I’m saying.” Jared’s eyes widen at the clear directive. He rules with an iron fist.

“Don’t you think you do enough?” Mike replies, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jensen sighs. “I’m asking you to fix it, okay?” He pushes past Mike and stalks away, and for whatever reason Jared steps directly into his path. Jensen stares at Jared’s shoes, and Jared wiggles his toes under the fabric of his tennis shoes.

“Um… hi,” Jared says. “I’m –”

“Jared,” Jensen finishes flatly. He lifts his head and meets Jared’s gaze head on. “You got here six days ago with Misha in the PT Cruiser. You taught first aid for the Red Cross and apparently can lift really heavy things. What can I do for you?”

Jared’s about to suggest he remove the large stick that’s firmly wedged in his ass. “Well, since this is your place and all –”

Jensen’s eyes widen and narrow so fast Jared gets whiplash. It feels like it just dropped thirty degrees outside, and Jared fights the urge to rub his arms. “Who told you that?”

Chris and Danneel are standing in the background like a couple of referees and Jared wonders what the hell he’s just started.

“I just heard in a roundabout way that…”

Jensen cuts across him. “Let me clear things up for you, Jared. It’s not my place. Whoever told you that is wrong. Dead wrong. I don’t run a damn thing around here, and you certainly don’t need my blessing to stay if that’s what you’re worried about.” Jared’s about to thank him for the clarification, but Jensen’s already past him, stalking away as quickly as he can without actually running. “Fix the damn schedule, Mike!” 

“Nice going,” Chris mutters after Jensen tears out on the ATV.

Jared’s not sure why he feels bad. It’s not like he said anything wrong. At least he doesn’t think he did. He’s been known to suffer from foot-in-mouth disease.

Chad walks over to them, joining the group now that the action is over. “You weren’t supposed to tell him that.”

Jared points to Chad. “But you said it was his place! I kind of figured he was the group… well, whatever.”

“Unofficial group leader,” Danneel says.

“Yeah, we just haven’t told him yet,” Mike says. “There was a vote and he wasn’t invited.”

From what Jared’s seen, he wouldn’t follow Jensen out of a paper bag. The guy has a chip on his shoulder a mile wide and an attitude to match.

“And we ain’t telling him,” Chris says. “He’ll throw an even bigger hissy than what he just did. At least we can blame this whole debacle on Jared being new.” 

Jared’s starting to wonder if the whole group has gone insane. Maybe there’s something in the water out here, because he’s just not seeing it.

“So what was Captain America pissy about this time?” Chad asks. Yeah, Jared definitely wants to hear this. Did someone not harvest enough kale for his liking?

“I should have known he’d figured it out,” Mike says glumly.

“Ah, the watch schedule,” Danneel says, nodding as if it all makes sense now.

“I told you he’d catch on,” Chris says. “You knew he’d never let that fly.”

“Um… watch schedule?” Jared prompts, trying to catch up as the conversation zooms past him.

“He came armed with math,” Mike says. “There are twenty-eight adults here, twenty-five that have been here long enough for watch duty. That’s three point five seven nights a week per adult. I’m surprised he didn’t make a damn pie chart.”

Chris chuckles. “That explains why he was spitting numbers at you.”

“I still don’t get it,” Jared says, trying to wrap his head around the conversation.

“Mike took Jensen off the schedule,” Danneel says, breaking it down in the simplest terms. Oh, God, they don’t trust him with watch duty. 

“Excuse the hell outta me for thinking he should get some sleep,” Mike mutters.

“It was a doomed plan from the start,” Chris says consolingly, patting him on the shoulder. “Your heart was in the right place, though.”

“He does a lot,” Mike says. “I figured it’d help.”

“Dude, he came armed with numbers,” Chad says. “You didn’t stand a chance.”

“I guess that’s enough excitement for one morning,” Chris decides. “Come on, guys. We’ve got work to do.” He starts walking off with Danneel. “So how long do you think it’s going to take us to undo the damage of the whole group leader comment?” They’re too far away now, so Jared can’t hear her response.

“Can I give you some advice?” Mike offers quietly. 

Jared looks at him sideways and figures that’s more of a statement than a question. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“He’s not an asshole, okay?” Mike says. “He’s just Jensen.” He shrugs. “You get used to it.” Jared’s not entirely sure he wants to get used to it. 

“I don’t get it,” he says. There’s got to be something redeeming about the guy, because everyone seems perfectly willing to overlook his character flaws. Jared’s not a complete idiot – he’s not going to openly bash their unofficial group leader.

“Do you like it here?” Mike asks suddenly.

Jared gives him a strange look. What does that have to do with anything? He looks out at Danneel and Chris arguing over whose turn it is to change the bath water supply; at Misha who’s teaching Alice how to face paint and using James, who’s giggling and unable to hold still, as a test subject. The two other children in the camp are crowding in close, begging to be next. Everyone looks content, like whatever life they’ve carved out here is a good thing. It may not be perfect, but it’s their home. 

“Yeah,” Jared says, holding his breath deep in his gut. “I like it here.”

“Then stay the fuck outta Jensen’s way.” 

Jared’s jaw drops, and he watches Mike amble away from him like he doesn’t have a care in the world.


	3. Chapter 3

If one more person says he’s the group leader, unofficial or otherwise, he’s going to blow his fucking top. He doesn’t know how many other ways he can say it. He doesn’t want, doesn’t _need_ the fucking responsibility. Just because he got here first certainly doesn’t mean he deserves any special attention. Yeah, he makes sure things stay running – the food stays stocked, there’s enough supplies to keep everyone fed, and, sure, he thinks about how they’ll make it through the winter. Everyone thinks about that, worries if they’ll have enough food and supplies for the future. It’s a democracy, a group effort, and he does not reign supreme. 

Chris says he’s got a gift when it comes to the machines, that he knows how to fight them; he knows to fight and stay alive. As far as Jensen’s concerned, he was never good at much, so if he’s good at this or anything, it’s probably just a fluke and most likely won’t last. Before the war, he was barely hanging on, fumbling through life, going nowhere fast with no future and no interest in getting off his ass and doing anything about it. For Jensen, life started when the war did, when the machines stormed Texas and blew his world apart. 

The last thing he wants is for anyone to trust him, to blindly follow him like he’s the one with the answers, like he’s got a fucking clue what he’s doing. He doesn’t want to be responsible for anyone else, and he’s made that perfectly clear. He doesn’t want to carry that burden. It’s just too much. So if people think he’s a selfish asshole and give him space, it’s better that way.

A shadow falls across the hole he’s currently waist deep in, and Jensen doesn’t bother to cover his groan. He digs the shovel into the ground, leans on the handle and peers up at the stranger. After he snapped at Mike, he figured no one would get within fifty yards of him for at least twenty-four hours.

“I come in peace,” Misha announces, lifting both hands with his palms facing outward.

Jensen chuckles without thinking and shakes his head. “Hey, Misha.”

Misha inclines his head formally. “Hello, Jensen.”

“Did you bring a shovel to go with that peace?” Jensen asks.

Misha pulls a shovel out from behind his back. “In fact, I did.”

“Good, then you can help,” Jensen says as he hefts another shovelful of dirt over the side. It’s going to take days to finish this job, so, despite his mood, he’s not going to turn down an extra set of hands.

Apparently Misha isn’t much of a talker, which suits Jensen just fine. He is, however, a singer, and Jensen’s not sure how he feels about that. Whatever. The guy’s helping him dig a huge freaking hole in the middle of the desert, so he’s not going to complain.

When Misha starts with the Bone Song, Jensen has to stop him. Anything but the Bone Song. “Hey, Misha. Did you go to college?”

Misha finishes the song before he replies. “Yes, I did.”

Jensen nods, mulling it over in his head. “Any good at science?”

“If you’re asking if I can build a bomb, then the answer is probably.”

“I already know how to do that,” Jensen replies, leaning to stretch the muscles in his aching back. He’s picked up a vast array of skills he never thought he’d have since the war started. Making basic explosives was one of the first things he’d learned after he’d hooked up with a couple of paramilitary guys. He didn’t stay long, because they were ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ types, and that had extended to more than just the machines.

“If you don’t want me for my bomb-making skills, then what can I do for you?” Misha asks.

Well, there’s no harm in asking. “I’ve been collecting some textbooks. I was thinking maybe… the kids, you know?” He hopes he doesn’t sound as stupid as he feels. Jensen never went to college, and he never really thought about it again until kids started showing up. He wants them to have the opportunity to learn. They teach the kids what they can, each person freely sharing the skills they possess, but Jensen thinks they could pull together something close to a real classroom. And Chris had given him so much shit for taking that blackboard from Whiskey Creek Middle School.

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Jensen. Would you please explain it to me?” Misha asks. Jensen looks at the other man and doesn’t know him well enough to know if he’s pulling his leg. He’s used to Danneel and Chris, who are able to fill the gaps.

“I’m asking if you’ll teach the kids,” he says in a rush. When Misha doesn’t respond, just stands there gaping at him like a fish out of water, Jensen continues. “Look, I’ve seen you with James, Katie and Austin. You’re good with them. And just because we’re living in bumfuck nowhere, that doesn’t mean we have to be uncivilized. If you could maybe… I don’t know.” He returns to shoveling, hefting the dirt with enough force that he’ll be worn out inside of ten minutes.

Misha drops a hand on his shoulder, and Jensen freezes with the shovel in midair. “I’d be honored.”

Jensen smiles down at his blister covered hands. “That’s great. Thanks, Misha.”

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D4.jpg)

“So does this whole unofficial group leader thing mean anything to you?” Jared asks after he flops down on his cot. He can’t get the exchange with Jensen out of his head. It’s what Mike said that stuck with him: _stay out of Jensen’s way_. They’ve got to be eating some type of weird cactus root or something, because they’re all delusional.

“Jared, why are you fixated on this?” Misha asks, as if he’s willing to entertain his slightly annoying bunkmate for awhile. Jared’s not sure when he became the annoying one.

“I just want it to make sense,” he grumbles. He knows he has a bad habit of not being able to leave things alone, and it’s a personality characteristic that usually serves him well. 

“We live in a world that doesn’t make sense,” Misha replies as he rolls over, tucking his arms underneath his body. “I thought you knew that.”

“How can he be the leader when he doesn’t know he’s the damn leader? Explain that to me.”

“What you think you are and what your friends think you are can be two very different things. In reality, you’re probably somewhere in the middle.”

Jared groans and tosses his arm over his eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Little in life does.”

It’s obvious Misha’s not going to indulge him any further, but Jared’s not ready to fall asleep yet. “So what’d you do today?”

“Dug a hole.”

“Okay.” From what he’s seen, Misha’s not big on manual labor, but he goes with it. “Why?”

“Because Jensen looked like he needed the help.”

Jared drops his arm off the side of the bed and sits up, kicking at the sheet when it bunches around his legs. “You spent the day with Jensen?”

“I spent the day digging a hole. Jensen happened to be there.”

“But…”

Misha groans. “I swear if you ask me what he’s like, I’m going to throw my one sacred pillow at your head.”

“But…”

“Jared,” Misha warns.

“You were digging a hole and you don’t know why you were digging it?” Jared asks instead. 

“Nope,” Misha replies. “I did get a job, though.”

“You got a job,” Jared repeats.

“You’re looking at the new official teacher.”

Jared flops back down on the bed. “I’m not calling you professor.”

“Don’t hate, Jared. Don’t hate.”

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D1.jpg)

Jared’s sitting next to Alice, who’s trying to explain the differences between kale, spinach and mustard greens to James, and why it’s important to eat something green even if you don’t like the taste. James doesn’t seem impressed.

“I can’t say I blame the kid,” Mike mutters. He shovels a forkful of kale into his mouth when Danneel glares at him. “Yum…” He smiles at James, green bits of leafy vegetable stuck between his teeth.

“Ugh,” Chad groans. “We’re supposed to make him want to eat it. Now I just want to barf.”

A shadow falls across the table, and Jared looks up to see Jensen standing behind them, his shirt twisted and folded around his neck. From the looks of it, he’s been working for a while. Beads of sweat lazily trace familiar paths down his chest, tanned skin peeking out from behind the dirt. Jared swallows and looks away. 

Jensen’s hand falls heavy on Mike’s shoulder and he squeezes once. Mike looks down at the table, the slight hint of a smile on his lips. Whatever happened yesterday has been forgotten.

“Change of plan,” Jensen announces as he pops a couple of blackberries into his mouth. Jared watches as purple juice dribbles down his chin, and Danneel licks her thumb and smears it away. “Today we’re gonna make concrete.”

Chris presses his hand to Jensen’s shoulder and pushes him aside so he can look past him. “You hiding a concrete mixer somewhere that I don’t know about?” His fingerprints are left in the dirt on Jensen’s skin.

“Hey, if the Romans could do it so can we,” Jensen replies.

Chad groans. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“No, it’s not,” Jensen says, flicking dirt in Chad’s direction. “Misha’s going to teach us.”

Jared shifts his gaze to Misha. “You know how to make concrete from scratch?”

Misha shrugs and polishes his fingernails on his button-down shirt. “As it just so happens, I do.”

“See,” Jensen says, slapping Chad on the back. “So we’re all going to learn.”

“Why can’t you learn?” Chad grumbles. “I don’t see why we all have to know this.”

“Because I might not always be here,” Jensen says. It’s not particularly ominous, but everyone turns to stare at him, wide-eyed and concerned.

Chris cracks first. “Got something you want to tell us?”

“Look, none of us should be irreplaceable. What if something happens to me?”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you,” Chris grumbles. The _not on my watch_ goes unspoken.

Jensen gives him a placating smile. “I’m not trying to be all doom and gloom.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s way too early for that shit,” Chad complains through a wide yawn.

“I’m trying to be practical here,” Jensen continues. “It’s something we should all know.”

“Last time you said that, we spent a week under the hood of the Jeep,” Chad grumbles.

“And you can tune up an engine now, can’t you?” Jensen replies, tossing his sweaty shirt at Chad’s face.

“Gross, dude! You reek!” Chad hollers, knocking his chair over as he scrambles to get away.

Jensen grins devilishly at Chad’s discomfort and wanders away, leaving everyone to complain in his absence.

“Well, today’s going to suck,” Mike says.

“We could always stage a mutiny,” Chad suggests.

“Viva la resistance!” Danneel hollers, pumping her fist in the air.

“Um, guys? What Jensen said actually makes a lot of sense,” Jared says, wondering how he became the practical one. It’s painful to say, but he can see the other man’s point. If the worst does happen or someone decides to move on, the camp should be able to function without them. It’s not about doom and gloom, it’s about survival.

Chris laughs, dropping his hand on Jared’s shoulder like he’s odd man out in a private joke. “Of course it makes sense.”

Chad sets his chair upright and plops down in the seat. “Yeah, it was never about that.”

Jared gestures widely to the group. “So why all the hoopla?”

“Because bitching makes us human,” Mike says.

“Amen, Mike. Amen,” Danneel agrees.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D2.jpg)

They spend the day gathering pieces of rock, ceramic tile, rubble and leftover steel rebar that had been collected during salvage trips. Lime is used as a binding agent.

Misha’s a far more adept teacher than Jared had given him credit for. He explains each step, breaking it down and making sure everyone understands before moving on. He does have a tendency to go off on tangents, so when he starts rambling about rheological plasticity, Jared thumps his elbow and gestures to the group. Chad looks like he’s about two seconds away from falling asleep on a pile of broken bricks, and Mike’s drawing graphic pictures in the dirt that, if they are what Jared thinks they are, are inappropriate for minors. 

“I think you’re losing them.”

“We could always do this naked,” Misha suggests. “I bet that would hold their interest.”

“Let’s not,” Danneel replies as she drops an armload of ceramic tile at Misha’s feet.

In the end, they only fill one sealed wooden pallet with their makeshift concrete. “I want to see how strong it is before we do more,” Jensen advises as Misha scrapes out any lumps using a large rolling pin. 

“Don’t lie,” Chris says. “You just want to make sure this is going to work first.”

Misha presses his hand to his chest. “You don’t trust me?”

“I want to know if it’s going to be able to support three to four feet of dirt on top of it before we go ahead,” Jensen says. 

“We’re using steel rebar to reinforce it,” Mike says, piercing the ground with one of the steel poles. “This isn’t going anywhere.”

Jensen nods and rubs his chin thoughtfully. “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

“Remind me again what this little experiment’s for?” Chad asks as he deposits an armful of bricks. Jared jumps out of the way a second before his foot is crushed.

“You’re just now asking that?” Jared asks. Daylight hours are precious; surely they haven’t spent the day doing backbreaking labor for a social science experiment. Jensen might be an asshole, but he can’t be that cruel.

Jensen wipes the sweat off his brow with his tee shirt that’s clinging to his sticky shoulders like a second skin. “We’re gonna need more room.”

“Feeling the need to expand?” Mike asks. “Your one room palace isn’t enough for you?”

“The way I figure it, we’ve got sleeping quarters for five more people.”

“You know there’s ways around that,” Chris replies.

Jensen doesn’t miss a beat when he says, “Yeah, we expand.”

“And where are these people gonna come from?” Chris continues. “You planning on posting flyers or something?”

Jensen eyeballs Chris, and Jared, even without knowing them well, senses the shift in Jensen’s mood. “They’ll come from wherever the hell everyone else comes from.” He points to the horizon. “Where Alice and James and Misha and Jared came from. Out there somewhere.”

“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled…”

“Fuck off, Mike,” Jensen growls as he turns and stalks back to the pile of rebar. 

Jared’s starting to wonder if he ate some cactus for breakfast, because he’s beginning to see what all the fuss is about. Jensen won’t turn anyone anyway. Even if he doesn’t outright say it, Jared knows newcomers will be welcomed as he and Misha had been. He feels something move deep within his chest that he hasn’t felt since the war started.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I need a damn bath,” Danneel announces as she flicks a lump of dirt off her arm.

Chad takes a deep breath and shivers. “Yeah, I smell myself. Never a good sign.”

“River?” Chris suggests.

“Hell yeah,” Mike agrees. “Let’s go.”

Jared shrugs and follows the group. He feels sticky and disgusting. He pauses when he notices Jensen isn’t following, instead opting to beat a boulder into tiny pieces with a sledgehammer like it’s just offended his mother. 

Chris puts a hand on his arm before Jared can approach him. “Yeah, I’ll take this.” He moves past Jared and goes to Jensen. They talk in hushed voices, and after a minute Chris tosses his hands in the air and stalks away. 

“Come on,” Chris orders, not even slowing down as he passes Jared.

They’re almost caught up to the group when Jared says, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, he just gets like that sometimes,” Chris replies. It’s clear he’s annoyed, so Jared doesn’t ask anything else. 

Jared’s helped with water runs before, but he hasn’t actually swum yet. Chad has already stripped down to his boxers and is jumping in with a whoop when they arrive at the river’s edge. Jared struggles to keep from staring when Danneel strips down to her bra and panties and sticks her toe in the water.

“It’s cold,” she complains. Chad resurfaces a few feet from her, and it’s like watching a disaster in slow motion when Chad uses both arms to skim the surface and sling water all over her. “You asshole!” She dives in after that, hell bent on delivering revenge. Chad’s scream echoes across the desolate landscape. 

Mike nudges Jared and grins. “A family that swims together stays together.” With that nugget of wisdom, he cannonballs into the water.

“Or kills each other,” Chris amends before shrugging and following them into the water.

Misha appears at his side, already stripped down to his brightly colored orange boxer briefs. “If you can’t beat them, join them.”

Jared chuckles, pulls his shirt over his head and jumps into the water with a whoop of joy. The first ten minutes are filled with dunking matches, and since Jared is so tall, he’s got a good advantage over the others. Apparently Danneel is fully prepared to fight dirty, though, and she tickles his sides. Two seconds later he’s underneath the surface, choking on river water. 

They tire quickly, a hard day’s work having sapped all extra energy, and soon they’re floating on their backs, relaxing their aches away. It’s a great ending to a good day even if Jensen isn’t here to enjoy it with them.

“We better get out before we freeze to death,” Danneel suggests as she dog paddles to the shore. 

Jared pulls his legs underneath him and stands on the soggy river bottom. His eyes track movement and he sees Jensen rolling to his feet about twenty yards from the river’s edge. He dusts the dirt off his pants and turns around, sauntering away in the evening haze. Jared opens his mouth to call him back – Jensen’s got to be feeling disgusting after working all day – but he swallows the words. If Jensen wanted to join them, he would have. Jared might not understand it, but he knows enough now to leave it alone.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D3.jpg)

Jared figures his life, all things considered, isn’t so bad anymore. He could get used to this, this life carved out of the rock and earth in the middle of nowhere. He dreams of flying wizards and fire-breathing dragons.

When he crawls out of bed in the morning, he meets the day with his usual enthusiasm until he sees that nearly everyone is awake. They’re standing around looking lost, eyes studying the ground. Jaws are clenched and tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Jared approaches Chad slowly. “What happened?”

“It’s bad, man. It’s really fucking bad.”

Jared swallows the sinking feeling of dread. “Is everyone okay?”

Chad nods, wiping angrily at his face. “Fuckin’ dust out here. Gets me every time.”

“Yeah, the dust,” Jared agrees, resting his hand on Chad’s shoulder. He squeezes once and leaves his hand there, a gesture of friendship, when Chad doesn’t pull away. The feeling of overwhelming disappointment and hopelessness is palpable in the air, and Jared doesn’t know what to do. He feels lost and helpless.

“Goddamn fuckin’ machines,” Chris growls, slamming his fist against the side of the old pole barn.

“Hey,” Danneel says. “Chris, it’s all right.”

“No, it’s not all right,” Chris snaps. “Fuckin’ machines took out all the western crops. That was supposed to feed us this winter. And now what? What the fuck are we supposed to do?” His fist retraces the same path, slamming with enough force to rock the dilapidated building.

“Stop,” Jensen orders in a tone that leaves no room for argument. Jared turns and sees Jensen approaching the group, somehow with his head held high. “I mean it,” he says, leveling his gaze at Chris. “Stop.” Chris heaves out a deep breath like it’s being pulled from the depths of his soul and steps away from the wall.

“Here’s the deal,” Jensen announces as he steps back to address the group. “Foot soldiers took out the western crops last night. Judging from the tracks, they were just passing through.” A collective gasp is heard from the group, and Jensen lifts his hand. “But we’ve planned for this. We’re going to be fine. Things are gonna be tight, but we’ll make it through.” He drops his gaze to his hands and rubs his fingers over his knuckles. When he lifts his head again, his voice doesn’t waver. "I give you my word we’ll make it through this.” No one asks how he can be so sure. No one says anything, just stares at Jensen like what he’s said is gospel.

“Just… stick together, okay? We’re stronger when we’re together,” Jensen says quietly as he rubs his hand tiredly across his face. And then, as if to be contrary, he turns around and walks away. Jared shakes his head as he watches Jensen go, disappearing down one of the hatches. Whatever solidarity Jensen’s speech mustered disappears quickly after he leaves.

“What are we going to do?” Alice mumbles, holding James close.

“It’ll be fine,” Danneel says, rubbing her shoulders gently. 

“He didn’t say how it was going to be fine,” Alice replies. “We’re just supposed to believe him.”

For all Jared knows, Jensen is currently preparing his escape plan or licking his wounds in private. To be honest, Jared has no idea what Jensen does in the hours he spends away from the group. As he watches everyone fall apart without the man they’ve all got their hope pinned on, he decides he’s going to find out. Enough with staying out of Jensen’s way. Jensen might not owe him an explanation, but he can damn sure explain to the group what his plans are. He owes these people that much. 

Jared stalks off in the direction Jensen went, not acknowledging Chris when he yells his name. If he wants him to stop, he’s going to have to physically intervene because Jared’s had about enough of this shit.

The hatch opens easily, and Jared doesn’t bother with the ladder, just dropping to the floor. Books and maps are scattered across the table, and Jensen’s tossing books over his shoulder as he curses his way through the makeshift library.

“All right,” Jared announces. “What. The. Fuck?”

Jensen doesn’t bother to turn around, still pulling at books and plans in a frenzied rush. “I don’t have time for this, Jared.” Well, at least Jensen’s calling him by his name. That’s progress.

“Well, you need to make time,” Jared growls, stepping forward.

Jensen spins on his heel, fire in his eyes, and Jared actually backs up a step. “No, I fucking don’t. I have to figure out how to get into the city when there’s heavy machine activity in the area. I have to figure out how in the hell we’re gonna get enough plants back in the ground to have food next year.”

“But you said we’d be fine,” Jared accuses.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine,” Jensen hisses back. “ _This_ year. Those crops the machines took out? That was the seed crop. Those were the farthest away from camp on purpose. We’ve got enough for the year, but if we’re going to sustain ourselves in the future, we need to get a seed crop back in the ground.”

Jared blinks, opening and closing his mouth several times before he finally forms a coherent thought. “You think that far ahead?”

Jensen pauses, maps clenched tightly in a white-knuckled grip. “Yeah, don’t you?” No, Jared really doesn’t, even if he probably should. “So if you wanna take a shot, go ahead and get it over with, because I have work to do.”

Jared shakes his head. “Wait – take a shot? You think I wanna hit you?”

“You came down here looking for a fight, so do your worst and let me get back to work.” Jensen squares his shoulders and waits, lifting an eyebrow like it’s an invitation. If Jared hits him right now, he knows Jensen won’t try to stop him.

“Jensen, I…” Jared rubs the back of his neck nervously and opts for the only thing he really can say. “How can I help?”

Jensen’s other eyebrow joins his hairline. “I’m looking for the Arizona Department of Agriculture printout.”

Jared nods and joins in the search. They spend the next three hours standing over maps and schematics. Well, Jared mainly stands there while Jensen mulls over the printouts and occasionally tosses out random thoughts that Jared makes appropriate noises to. He does shove a tomato into Jensen’s hand as he passes by to retrieve another printout from the shelf. Danneel had passed it through the hatch about an hour ago and gestured in Jensen’s direction. Jensen declined the first three times Jared offered it to him, so eventually Jared opted for brute force and snatched the pencil out of Jensen’s mouth and put the tomato in his hand instead.

Jared wanders out in the afternoon to let everyone know they’re not dead, and Chris gives him an appraising look. “He hasn’t thrown you out yet? Impressive.”

“I’m not entirely sure he knows I’m there,” Jared replies, shrugging. 

“So what he’s planning?” Mike asks.

“Raid,” Jared says. 

“Cool, what are we looting?”

Jared’s not entirely sure, because Jensen flipped through maps so fast Jared didn’t bother to try to keep up. Instead he just offered his two cents when Jensen’s brows furrowed like he was trying to solve a particularly annoying algebra equation. He must have said something useful a couple of times because Jensen made a noise in his throat, nodded and wrote a couple more lines in his notebook.

“Best go down there and figure out what he’s planning,” Chris says. He nods to Jared. “You go. For whatever reason, he’s letting you stick around.”

Jared nods, feeling like he’s been given an important mission, and he marches off in the direction of the hidden bunker.

“So what’s the plan?” Jared asks after he watches Jensen jot down another paragraph. 

Jensen uses the chewed up eraser of his pencil to point to the map. “Biology center. It’s got a whole section for botany.”

Jared follows the eraser along the paper. “You don’t think that’s been hit yet?”

Jensen shakes his head. “People want an instant payoff and there’s no food there. Chances are there’s still something left.”

Jared nods because it makes sense, and he hopes like hell Jensen isn’t wrong. “So when do we leave?”

“We?” Jensen repeats, lifting his head and meeting Jared’s gaze with wary eyes. “You’re not going.”

“Like hell,” Jared replies, crossing his arms over his chest. “This includes me, too. I’m not just gonna stand here with my thumb up my ass while you guys run headfirst into danger.” 

Jensen points to the ceiling, referencing something else entirely. “They ain’t going either.”

Jared shakes his head, silently thankful that he’s not odd man out just because he’s still one of the new guys. Jensen’s smart, but he can’t be so thick as to actually think his friends are going to consent to him doing this solo. “They’re not going to let you go alone.”

Jensen sighs and rubs his eyes, digging his fingers against tender flesh, and Jared winces. “Those machines – we’ve never seen that kind of activity around here. I’m not going to ask them to come. It’s just too much.” 

Jared heaves out a breath and knows he needs reinforcements for this. If he’s been reading everyone else correctly, they’re not going to let Jensen run off without them no matter what he’s thinking. “Fine.”

Jensen lifts his head slowly, bloodshot eyes wide and untrusting. “Fine?”

“Fine,” Jared repeats and stalks out of the bunker to fill the group in on Jensen’s little solo mission.

Needless to say, the plan goes over like a lead balloon.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D4.jpg)

Jensen glares at Jared despite the fact that Mike, Danneel, Chris, Misha and Chad are now crowding into the room.

“So what’s the plan?” Chris asks, leaning back on a chair and crossing his ankles. He hasn’t outright accused Jensen of anything. He prefers to hear it directly from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.

“Biology center,” Jensen says tersely.

Mike folds his arms on the table and rests his chin on his hands, eyes scanning the maps scattered across the table. “You’re going to have to give us more than that.”

“Look,” Jensen says flatly. “I know what you guys are doing.”

“Do you now?” Danneel says. “Good, then we can skip the whole you going alone fight.”

“There’s not going to be a fight because I’m –”

Chris’s chair drops to the floor with a resounding thud that echoes in the enclosed space, and Jensen’s mouth snaps closed. “You don’t run things around here, and last time I checked, I don’t answer to you.” Jared’s gaze swivels to rest on Chris, and he’s sure his eyeballs are about to drop out of his face. “If this goes down, we’re doing it as a group.”

The only sound that fills the room is Jensen’s breathing, short puffs of air as he processes Chris’s words. No one else chimes in; no one has to because Chris just covered it all. Now they’re just waiting for the fallout.

Jensen’s fists slowly unclench at his sides. “Fine.”

Chris raises an eyebrow, a move that looks remarkably like the one Jensen had pulled on Jared hours ago when he found him tearing apart the library. “Fine?”

“You’re right. I don’t run things around here, so –” Jensen gestures to the group. “You guys have every right to be there. It’s not my decision.”

Chris shakes his head tiredly. “Not the message I wanted you take from the conversation, but so be it.” The ends justify the means.

“Now that’s settled and we’ve been spared the ‘all for one’ speech,” Chad says, stepping forward to the table. “Let’s get down to business.” 

Everyone gathers around as Jensen lays out the plan, tracking each step across maps and city diagrams. There’s a backup plan, a backup to the backup plan, and a whole lot of crap that Jared thinks they probably don’t have to know to accomplish tomorrow’s goal. He goes with it, though, because if Jensen’s not prepared to leave anything to chance, Jared’s not either. It’s late when Jensen finishes, and he tells them they’ll go over it again in the morning briefly, in case there are questions.

“If anyone changes their mind during the night, no hard feelings, okay?” Jensen says as they’re breaking to get some sleep. “There’s no expectations, and if you’re not at the outpost in the morning, no one’s going to think less of you.” No one responds, and from the looks that are passing back and forth, this is something Jensen’s said before.

The group filters out of the hatch and into the darkness. Jared pauses to wait for Jensen, feeling like he should tell the man goodnight or something. Chris rolls the hatch closed, leaving Jensen concealed underneath.

“Shouldn’t we wait for him?” Jared asks.

Chris shakes his head. “It’ll be awhile before he stops, and we need to be as rested as possible, so if you think you can sleep, you should try.” It feels wrong leaving Jensen down there working while everyone else goes to bed. Chris seems to sense Jared’s discomfort and says, “If he wanted someone to stay, he would have asked.” This is the man that was going to go on a supply run alone and leave a group of fully capable adults behind, so Jared thinks he’s a little entitled to be untrusting of Jensen’s ability to voice his needs. 

Chris stops when he realizes Jared’s not following him. “Look, I get it. I don’t like leaving him either, but we’ve pushed him enough for one day. He’s got a lot of shit on his mind, and this is how he works through it. You’re just gonna have to trust me.” It’s clear Jared’s going to have to defer to Chris’s experience, because if he goes back down there and Jensen throws him out on his ear, he’s not going to know what to do. “Try to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, okay. You too, Chris.”

Misha’s already underneath his blankets, curled on his side and staring at the wall when Jared drops into their sleeping quarters. He’s left the lamp on, casting soft light across the room.

Jared pulls off his shoes and shirt, switches off the lamp and falls into bed. The room is pitch black, and Jared folds his arms behind his head, squinting up at the ceiling as if that will clear his vision.

“Hey, Misha?”

“Yes, Jared.”

“What are we doing?”

It’s nearly a minute before Misha replies. “The right thing.”

Jared nods even though Misha can’t see him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.” Sleep comes surprisingly easily after that.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D1.jpg)

Jensen lifts his head and tugs at the piece of paper that’s stuck to the side of his face. He blinks down at the drool mark on the page and slams the book closed. He scratches at his face, trying to force feeling back into his body. He glances at his watch, not surprised to see that only an hour has passed; the others will be waking shortly. He grabs the notebook he’s been writing in; he’s got enough time to go over it once more.

The sun is still hidden when he climbs out of the hatch; only the first signs of daybreak are bleeding across the horizon as he makes his way across the camp. He checks the supplies in the Jeep and van and tops off the gas tanks. 

Chris wanders toward him, AK-47 resting on his shoulder. The guns normally don’t make a huge difference unless you’re a crack shot and can actually hit a connecting cable or the eye socket of the machine, and that only has a ghost of a chance of working on one of the bigger machines. Having tangible weapons seems to make them feel better, the illusion of protection, so Jensen goes with it.

“You sleep at all?” Chris asks as he drops the AK on the back seat of the Jeep.

“About as much as you,” Jensen shoots back. 

Chris nods acceptingly, because this isn’t the time or the place for that conversation. Jensen knows Chris well enough to know that even if he was in bed, he wasn’t getting a lot of rest.

“I was thinking,” Jensen begins, spitting out the words without giving them much thought, “about what you said last night. You were right. None of you answer to me, and for me to plan everything and think that I should be the one that –”

Chris lifts his hand. “You can stop right there. All I’m saying is that we’re in this together.”

Jensen nods. “Exactly, and for me to make all these crazy plans and expect everyone to go along with it is just wrong. And I think that –”

“What you think is complete bullshit. Jensen, you’ve got a gift for this.” 

If by gift Chris means pulling it out of his ass and hoping like hell it doesn’t blow up in his face, then yes, he does.

“You’re telling me I’m complete bullshit then complimenting my intelligence in the same breath?”

Chris glares at him. “Yeah, something like that.”

“I just don’t want to give the impression that I’m running things around here.”

“Ah,” Chris says knowingly. “So that’s what this is about. Should have known.”

Jensen turns to face his longtime friend, annoyed that once again that he’s on the outside of a private joke. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Chris shakes his head. “It means that now is not the time to have this conversation. We’ll talk about it tonight, okay?” Jensen mumbles his agreement. Chris is right: now really isn’t the time to be discussing this. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll die out there and spare ourselves the heart to heart.”

“One can only hope,” Jensen mutters.

Chris grins and slaps him on the back. “That’s the spirit, Jenny Bean.”

“We’ve been up for thirty minutes and you’ve already managed to piss him off,” Mike comments as he walks over with the rest of the group trailing behind him.

“He hasn’t been to bed yet, so it doesn’t count,” Chris comments, jerking his thumb in Jensen’s direction. “For all we know, he’s still pissed about last night.”

Jensen rolls his eyes, allowing the familiar banter to wash over him. Everyone always assumes he’s pissed off about something, but Jensen rarely gets mad. If anything, he’s resigned, accepting what he has to do to keep things going and hoping he doesn’t fuck it all up in the process. He doesn’t have time to get mad. 

Chad groans. “I’m not riding with him. I’m crunchy and taste good with ketchup.”

“You do realize he’s not a dragon,” Misha points out. “He doesn’t have a tail.”

“He does breathe smoke, though,” Mike says. “I’ve seen it.”

“Yeah, because you were probably trying to blow it in his face,” Danneel comments, rolling her eyes.

Jensen turns around, facing the group with a raised eyebrow. “Finished?” There are a few smirks and a couple of nods. “I made an outline for the other vehicle in case we get separated.” He passes the paper to Danneel, who scans the document quickly.

“Just whipped this up in your free time?” she asks.

Jensen ignores the question, pressing on with a brief recap of what the plan is. He finishes, sucking in a deep breath and holding it for a couple of seconds before slowly blowing it out his nose. “Questions?”

No one replies, and Jensen nods. “Okay. Stay safe and stick together. Don’t take any stupid risks and don’t try to be a hero. We’ll all be fine.” He shrugs and climbs into the Jeep without any further fanfare. Motivational speeches were never his thing.

Chris climbs into the passenger seat next to him, which is what he expects. As Chris has pointed out, why break up a winning team? What does surprise him is that Jared and Misha climb into the back seat. Usually people are falling over themselves to get away from him. He’s seen Chris bribe Chad with chocolate to get him in the backseat. 

Chris drops his arm over the seat, resting his hand on the back of Jensen’s headrest. “Ready, boys?”

“There’s an AK in my lap. I’m absolutely ready for this,” Misha replies, grinning at Jared.

“You know how to shoot that thing?” Chris asks. Jensen snorts when Misha shakes his head no. “You’ll learn.” Chris nods to Jared. “What about you?”

“I’m from Texas. What d’you think?” Jared replies. 

A Texas boy, Jensen muses as he pulls out onto the dusty road. He thought he recognized the accent. If it was a different time, Jensen would have piped up and said he was from Texas, too, and they’d have a long conversation rehashing the comforts of home and how things really are bigger in Texas. Who knows? Maybe they’d split a six pack and wile away the hours discussing their families and dead end jobs they’d worked. Maybe it would lead to something more. Jensen might be an asshole sometimes, but he’s not blind. He’s seen Jared half-naked and soaking wet – he’s not hard on the eyes. But it’s not a different time, and where you come from doesn’t matter any more than how attractive you are, so Jensen keeps his mouth shut and drives.

He watches the road, his mind going over the plan again and again, and Jared watches him in the rearview.

As always, Jensen has prepared for the worst and silently hoped for the best. He thinks this might be one of the rare times when the best case scenario actually happens as they’re throwing bags of seeds in the van, the payoff exceeding even Jensen’s highest hopes. 

A puddle of water on the tile floor ripples, just the hint of vibration sending droplets dancing across the surface. 

Jensen narrows his eyes. “Shut up,” he whispers, straining to hear. Chad belts out a laugh at a raunchy joke from Danneel, and Jensen grabs him by the shoulder and clamps a hand over his mouth. “Shut the fuck up,” he hisses, eyes darting to the group as they stop what they’re doing immediately. Jensen nods, and everyone backs up slowly. “The back hallway, get down and stay down.” He’ll never have them hide in a room with no easy exits. If the machines found them, it’d be a slaughter.

Chris gives him a sidelong look, but slinks through the building anyway. No one else heard anything. There are large underground drainage systems, just like the plans had depicted, to allow the excess water to drain from the greenhouse. It hooks up to the city water system which, although not ideal, could get them out if need be.

Chad licks the back of his hand, and Jensen lets him go immediately, glaring as Chad shuffles away. They climb down the ladder and hide in the darkness as water laps around their ankles. Jared sinks down next to him and gestures as if to ask _what exactly are we doing down here?_

Jensen holds his breath and waits. Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe what he saw was something else entirely or nothing at all. Maybe he’s been at this too long, and his mind is playing tricks on him. Wouldn’t be the first time. 

Jared opens his mouth, sucking in breath to speak. Jensen squeezes his thigh, willing him to be quiet, and feels the muscles tense underneath his fingers. If there’s even a small chance… A moment later there’s a metal thud, followed by a second, then a third, and heavy, metal footsteps echo above them, rattling the foundation around them.

Jensen closes his eyes and listens to the dull sounds of machinery overhead; feels his body rocking with the vibrations as he leans against the wall and wishes like hell that one day he’ll be wrong. 

They wait for three hours after the sound of footsteps echoes away.


	4. Chapter 4

Jared’s still trying to wrap his mind around their supply run. All in all, it was a huge success. They recovered bags of seeds and found some fruit, almonds and pecans growing from the forgotten trees in the dilapidated greenhouse. Everyone seems pleased: the group is joking and teasing each other on the drive back.

The offload goes quickly because everyone shows up to help. Jared gives James a handful of almonds and the little boy smiles as if Jared’s just given him his first baseball bat and glove.

“I call that a job well done,” Chris says, rolling his neck and wincing when it pops loudly.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I could use a drink,” Chad announces with a clap of his hands.

“If by drink you mean that crazy wine you’ve got brewing in your room, I’m not sure about that,” Mike says. “Last time we tried it, I was blind for nearly a week.”

Chad shakes his head. “Nah, I got something better.” He pulls a bottle of scotch out from behind his back. “Have a look at that!”

Chris checks the label and whistles appreciatively. “Where the hell did you get it?”

“One of the desks in the administrative office.” He nudges Jared. “Eh? Looks pretty good, don’t it?”

Jared nods. He can’t remember the last time he had a good drink, and he’s nearly salivating at the thought. They agree to meet back in a half hour, and disperse to change and find something to eat.

Cups aren’t required, Jared soon learns as the bottle is passed from person to person. Jared takes a long pull and swallows the contents with a cough. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve and leans back, resting his weight on his elbows as he stares at the twinkling stars above. His thoughts are fuzzy and his belly is full. Yeah, he feels pretty good.

“I didn’t hear a damn thing.”

Chad nudges his ankle with his foot. “Huh? What you talkin’ bout, Willis?”

Jared looks at Chad, his eyelids drooping low. It takes him a second to realize he’s said that out loud. “At the Center, I didn’t hear anything. The machine, I didn’t…” He shrugs and picks at a loose thread on his shirt. It’s not that he feels outright bad about it, but he should have known something was up. He’s lived with the reality of the war and the world it’s left behind as long as everyone else.

Mike passes Chris the bottle and falls over, resting his head on Danneel’s thigh. “Don’t feel bad. None of us did.”

Chris takes a deep breath, blowing cigarette smoke out of his nose. Not everything they take is necessarily important (or good) for survival. Some of it’s just bonus, small comforts they used to enjoy, and Chris savors each puff from the cigarette like it’s a fine Cuban cigar.

“Do you see now?” he asks quietly, flicking the ash to the side. Jared’s eyes track the burning cherry as Chris continues, voice low and somber, “Do you see why we need him?”

“He sees shit no one else does,” Danneel continues. “I don’t know how he does it, and he damn sure won’t tell any of us, if he even knows, but somehow…”

Mike picks up when she can’t find the words to continue. “He gets it, you know? Everything with the machines. He just… fuck, I don’t know.”

“And that’s why you follow him,” Jared concludes. Jensen doesn’t demand respect; if anything, he actively runs away from the responsibility. Everything that’s given to him, the admiration that’s afforded to him, they give willingly and freely.

“Just don’t tell him that,” Chad replies. “He’ll throw another hissy fit and we’ll all suffer the consequences.”

“So why isn’t he with us?” Misha points out after taking a lengthy swallow from the bottle. Jared’s glad he’s not the one to point it out, even if Jensen’s absence is palpable. He’s tried talking about Jensen to Danneel and Mike before, and usually he’s shut down before he can get any answers.

Chad snickers. “Did you check the river? He’s probably down there walking on water.”

Chris lifts his head. “He’s somewhere close.” He scans the area and points to the right with a nod. “Over there.”

Mike lifts his head and narrows his eyes in the darkness. Jensen’s resting on the hood of the Jeep about thirty yards from them. “Now that’s just creepy,” Mike mutters.

Jensen stays close, but it’s not close enough. He should be part of the group, an active participant in the celebration. Jared decides he’s going to fix that.

“I’mma get him,” he declares and pulls himself to his feet. His legs wobble as he tries to get his feet firmly underneath him. He justifies it by reminding himself that it’s been a long time since he’s imbibed.

Chris outright laughs. “He’s with the group. Sort of.”

“’S not good enough,” Jared replies as he trips over Chad’s legs and barely manages to make it over to Jensen. Jensen’s lying on the hood, one arm folded behind his head. Jared cocks his head and looks at the other man. Jensen’s eyes are closed and he’s breathing in and out deeply. 

“Jensen ain’t moving,” Chris mumbles, watching Jared stand next to the car and Jensen’s lack of response. They’re too far away to hear any specifics if the conversation is muted, but Jensen isn’t yelling, so Chris takes that as a good sign.

“Reinforcements?” Danneel suggests.

“We are stronger as a group,” Mike says, smiling up at Danneel, who rewards him with a scratch behind his ear.

They stumble to their feet and wander over to Jared. After a harrowing day, even though no one will actually say it, it’s like they can’t be separated for long. The camaraderie is always strongest after a raid, and Jared’s happy to be a part of it; to finally feel like he’s part of this crazy and passionate group.

“Holy shit,” Chad mumbles, staring down at Jensen, who’s dead to the world.

Chris shakes his head, smiling fondly. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. Even Wonder Boy has to sleep once in awhile.”

“We can’t leave him out here,” Jared says quietly. 

“You wake him up,” Chad says, taking a large step back.

Jared nods, willing to accept that task. If Jensen wakes up with fists flying, Jared figures he deserves to land a punch or two, because at some point, Jared’s pretty sure he’s earned it. He still feels marginally guilty over the way he treated Jensen when he confronted him in the war room. 

Jared slips his arm under Jensen’s shoulder and pulls gently, easing his body off the hood. “Come on, Jen. Time for bed.”

Chris eyes him sideways and mouths, “Jen?”

Jensen’s eyes open to slits, green flashing from behind lowered lashes. “Wha…”

“Come on, easy,” Jared murmurs. “Bed time.” He pulls Jensen’s arm over his shoulder when his body sways uncertainly, and Jensen stumbles before Chris appears at his other side, taking some of his weight. His body is heavy, refusing to cooperate as they nearly carry him to his room.

Chad runs ahead and opens the hatch as Danneel slips inside to fold the covers back. Jensen’s compliant, putty in their hands, as they ease him into the room. Mike pulls off his shoes right after Jared lowers him down on the bed.

Jensen rubs his eyes, fighting to get his bearings. “I should…”

“You should get some fucking sleep,” Chris demands. He keeps his voice soft, as if he’s afraid to speak too loudly and risk Jensen fully waking.

Jensen yawns, white teeth flashing as Jared pushes him back on the bed with one hand. He pulls the covers around Jensen’s body, and Danneel drops a kiss to his cheek. 

“Sleep now,” Danneel murmurs, running her fingers through his hair. They stand around the bed, keeping vigil as Jensen’s eyes flutter and drift closed, his body too tired to do anything but succumb to exhaustion. Even though they’re staring, it doesn’t feel awkward. If anything, it feels right, like they’re protecting something, someone important.

As they filter out of the room, Jared’s struck by just how much he wants to stay.

“He’s fuckin’ beat,” Chris announces after the hatch has been secured.

“Last time we tried that, he came up swinging,” Chad says. “He’s got to be dead on his feet.”

“We should have got him sooner,” Jared mumbles. 

Chris pats him the back. “You did good, kid.”

Danneel collapses on the ground, folding her legs underneath her. “I say we finish the bottle here.”

Everyone’s quick to join her, falling where they stand as exhaustion and the need to be together melds into one. Even if no one will say, Jared knows they all want to be close to Jensen. He presses his hand against the cool metal of the hatch and pretends the feelings swelling deep in his gut are completely platonic, a sign of a fledgling friendship and nothing more.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D2.jpg)

Jensen’s been out in the field with Brock and Alice all morning, replanting the crops they lost to the machines. He’s vague on the details of the night before. He remembers their return to camp and unloading the vehicles. He knows the group decided to share a drink from the bottle Chad took from lord knows where. He’d lain on the hood of the Jeep, content to listen to the hushed conversations of victory from his friends. That’s the last thing he remembers. He’d woken up in his bed early in the morning feeling rested.

Alice touches his arm and offers him a canteen of water. He nods his thanks and takes a couple of deep swallows before passing the container back to her.

He bites his lip, debating how far he wants to go with his inquiry. Chances are someone from the group dragged his lazy ass back to bed or he found his way there on his own. It wouldn’t be the first time he was dead on his feet, running on fumes after being awake for forty-eight hours, and still managed to find his way home.

“Hey, Alice.”

Her eyes widen, and Jensen inwardly winces when he realizes she’s surprised he’s talking to her. If he was a better man, he’d work to rectify that. “Yes?”

“Last night, after we got back. Did you hang out with the raid team?” The term ‘hang out’ seems so outdated, but he can’t think of anything better to call it.

She curbs his discomfort when she chuckles and says, “You mean did I join the Kumbaya circle and take a few swigs from the bottle?”

Jensen shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s rubbing dirt and grit into his skin and he can’t seem to stop, even if he’s going to itch like a son of a bitch later.

“The answer is no, then.”

Jensen pulls three seeds out of the bag and drops them into the tilled earth. “You could have. You’re always welcome.”

She drops to one knee, covering the small hole with soft dirt. She rests her arm on her knee and looks up at him. “So are you, you know.”

He swallows and takes a step back, unsure what to say. He knows he could join the group whenever he wants. On a rational level, he knows this. He’s just not sure he knows where to begin. He’s not Chris, who’s friendly and loyal to a fault, or Mike who always seems to know how to welcome a frightened newcomer or what to say when no one else can find the words. He’s not Chad, who makes people laugh in the face of the most heinous evil they’ve ever seen, or Danneel whose comforting words and gentle caresses make the worst pains fade away. Jared and Misha have found their strides, bringing exciting differences and new talents to the group. He’s just not them and can’t find it in himself to be something he’s not, so he stays on the fringes and watches them grow and turn into the most amazing human beings it’s ever been his pleasure to know.

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,” Alice whispers, eyes cast downward as she deposits more seeds in the ground.

He shakes his head. He’s not going to let an innocent person take the blame for something she has no fault in. He was fucked up long before she ever got here. “It’s not you.”

“If you finish that with ‘it’s me,’ I’m going to have to laugh at you.”

Jensen snorts. He’s not stupid enough to say that even if it’s the truth. “Nah, wasn’t going to go there.”

“Good.” She smiles to herself, looking across the fields at nothing. “My husband used to say that to me, and it drove me up the wall.”

Jensen bites down on his lower lip. This is usually where he runs away or shuts the other person down. He doesn’t talk about the past, because to him, none of that matters anymore. The life that he knew is over, and this is what he’s got left. What he had before certainly wasn’t anything to write home about, so if anything, the life he’s carved out here is better than what he’s known because he has a purpose now. All he can do is try to make it work, and hope like hell he survives. This is his life and he’s dealing with it, but the way he chooses to deal usually isn’t the way everyone else copes.

“Scott, my husband, when we would fight, used to say ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ and that’s such bullshit. What it means is that it really is you, and I’m just trying to absolve myself of any guilt and make you feel better by saying it’s not.”

Jensen chuckles and tries to think of something to say. He knows a response is expected, and he should make some sort of effort at a human connection. At least that’s the bullshit Chris keeps swearing by. “I’m not gonna lie and say I’ve never used that line.”

Alice stands up and leans back to stretch. “I think everyone has used that line at least once.” She pauses, gazing thoughtfully at the ground, and Jensen knows she’s not seeing dirt but images of her past. “It’s amazing to think about it now. All the crap I used to say and the stupid things I thought were important. To think about the things I let bother me, the things I should have said…”

Jensen swallows. The shoulda, coulda, wouldas. They all have them, a constant companion in the darkness. He glances at the horizon, wishing for all the world that Mike or Danneel or anyone but him was here. He says the only thing he can say: “You’re a good person, Alice.”

She huffs disbelievingly. “You don’t know me, Jensen. You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

He shrugs because whatever happened in the past should stay there, and he’s the last person in the world who has the right to judge. “Don’t have to. I’m basing this purely on what I see now, and from where I’m standing, that’s what matters.”

Her nose crinkles when she looks at him, trying to find inconsistency or hesitance in his words. There isn’t any, because Jensen stands by what he says. Out here, your word is all you have. “You’re a strange one. I hope you know that.”

Jensen laughs. “Yeah, heard that before.”

She grins and covers the last of the seeds in the row. Her stomach rumbles and she presses a hand against her belly. “I think that means it’s time for lunch.” He nods and turns to start on the next row. “Is it okay if I stop for food?”

“I’m not your warden, Alice. If you’re hungry, take a break.”

She glances at the ground, kicking at the soft topsoil. “Yeah, but…”

He rolls his eyes, mock sternness in his voice when he says, “Fine. I’m ordering you to take lunch.”

Alice smiles and snaps him a sloppy salute that leaves smudges of dirt on her forehead. “Yes, sir.”

He groans. “Ugh. Don’t ever say that to me again.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. For a second she looks impossibly young, and Jensen’s heart splinters. She doesn’t belong in this broken world. None of them do. 

“You want anything?”

He scrutinizes the seeds with fervent intensity as he drops them in the hole. “No, I’m good.”

She wanders off, leaving him to his work, and he loses himself in the familiar motions.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D3.jpg)

It’s mid afternoon when a shadow falls across him, too tall to be any of the usual suspects. “You eat yet?”

Jensen pats the soft earth, concealing the seeds safely underneath, and pushes his weary body to his feet before moving on to the next hole.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Good afternoon to you, too, Jared,” Jensen says as he bends down. Chris is usually the one that drags him out of the fields and forces food down his throat. At least in the beginning he did. After a while, things got dismissed as being typical Jensen and he was left to his devices, which has worked just fine for him.

Jared smiles brightly. “Afternoon, Jensen.” His eyes narrow almost immediately, as if he’s thought this through and he’s not prepared to accept anything less than Jensen stuffing himself until he’s ready to puke. “Now come eat.”

Jensen sighs and slings the burlap bag of seeds over his shoulder. “Everyone is way too concerned with my dietary habits.”

“Are you kidding? That’s one of the hottest conversation topics around here.”

“Hobbies. You all need one.”

Jared laughs and passes over a bucket of water for Jensen to wash his hands. “Who needs hobbies when we have you?”

Jensen squirms when Jared’s gaze refuses to move from his face. He’s never liked being the center of attention, preferring to remain on the fringes, content to let things pass him by.

“You don’t like it, do you?” Jared muses, eyes never leaving Jensen’s face.

Jensen glances at the folded-over bag on the back of the four-wheeler. Anything to change the subject. “You promised me food.”

Jared smiles, and Jensen knows he’s getting a pass. “So I did.” Jared passes him a bag of almonds and some sliced tomato. It’s not much, but it’s more than enough to tide him over until dinner. “Danneel said you’re not much of a lunch eater, so I improvised.”

Jensen crunches down on several nuts and reaches for the canteen of water. “Did she tell you I prefer to be left alone?”

“She might have mentioned that. I wasn’t really listening.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and swallows a bit of juicy tomato. Jared will lose interest; they all do eventually. In a lot of ways Jensen knows he makes his life harder on himself because people assume he’s a mystery, a puzzle to be solved. He knows the truth: he’s not that interesting.

“You were supposed to sleep late,” Jared says, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing Jensen with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m fine, Jared. Really.” He waves to the field. “Just got a lot to do.” He leans against the fender of the ATV as he swallows down the rest of his food.

“Whoa, slow down,” Jared chides. “No one’s gonna take that from you.”

“Like I said, I have a lot to do before I lose daylight.”

Jared smiles knowingly. “One man army, huh?”

Jensen doesn’t dignify that with a response, just scoffs and slings the bag of seeds over his shoulder again as he sets out to finish the row. “Thanks for the food.” Heavy footsteps plod after him, and Jared follows him back to the spot where he retrieved him from. 

Jensen opens the bag and Jared’s hand darts past him and pulls out a handful of seeds. “Three, right?” Jared asks, dropping to one knee.

Jensen watches him drop the seeds in the soil and carefully cover them with dirt, patting the ground in what can only be described as a loving manner. “Um… what are you doing?”

Jared looks at him curiously. “Helping.”

There are two ways Jensen can handle this. He can tell Jared to fuck off, or he can let him help and maybe teach him something in the process. He could also ignore him and hope he goes away. That’s three ways, actually. He gives a mental shrug. “Two’s good. We’ll weed out the weaker plants later.”

Jared nods and moves ahead of Jensen to dig the next hole. They work in silence for several minutes, and Jensen thinks maybe this isn’t such a bad idea. Jared’s a hard worker, and he’s got a young back which is worth its weight in gold out here. Maybe Jensen can teach him how to…

“So where are you from?” Jared asks, leaning back to rest on his foot as he waits for Jensen to drop the seeds.

Jensen’s gut clenches, and he struggles to white out his mind. “Let me tell you how this goes, Jared: I don’t talk about the past. I don’t want to talk about people I’ve known or my family or rehash my glory days of when I was young and stupid. If you want to work with me, this is what I’m offering – work. If you want good conversation, I suggest you find someone else to spend your day with.” Jensen swallows the dust that’s collecting on the back of his tongue and waits for Jared to storm away.

“I stole my parents’ car when I was fourteen.”

Jensen blinks, stares and blinks again. “What?”

Jared backs up to the next hole, and Jensen drops the seeds. “Yep, stole their new car after they’d gone to sleep. I was so damn proud of myself; thought I was some big shot, a real grownup. I went to pick up my buddy and take him joyriding with me. I knocked on his front door, and as he was coming out, the car rolled down the driveway and right into his front porch. We barely got out of the way in time.”

Jensen chuckles and shakes his head, and Jared continues, “Left the stupid thing in neutral.”

“I bet your parents weren’t amused,” Jensen surmises.

“I spent that summer rebuilding a porch, and half of high school grounded. What do you think?”

“You stole their car,” Jensen replies. “What’d you think was gonna happen?”

Jared shrugs one shoulder. “Dude, I was fourteen. I wasn’t thinking at all.”

Jensen makes an understanding noise in his throat because he’s been there, young and stupid, thinking he had all the time in the world to get it together, to get things right. He nudges Jared’s hand with the toe of his boot to keep the row straight. 

Jensen’s not ready to let the conversation die, and he can’t remember the last time he’s felt like that. The question is out of his mouth before he can stop himself, before he can talk himself out of it. “You’re a pretty big guy. Football or basketball?” 

Jared smiles up at him, all teeth and dimples, before launching into a story about his foray into high school sports. 

That’s how their afternoon goes, with Jared telling stories from his past, and Jensen, for no reason that makes total sense to him, hanging on every word.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D4.jpg)

Jared inhales his breakfast, eager to meet Jensen at the western field to finish replanting the crops. They’ve managed to seed almost everything they lost in less than a week. If they put in a full day, Jared thinks they’ll finish.

“Where you going in such a hurry?” Chad comments as Jared wipes the crumbs off his mouth with the sleeve of his tee shirt.

“Back to the fields.”

“With Jensen,” Chad says. There’s something in his tone that causes Jared to raise his head and meet Chad’s gaze.

“Yeah,” he replies. Is this a problem?

“He doesn’t like you, Jared,” Chad says bluntly.

Jared steps back, wondering if he’s being that obvious and if there’s anything there to be obvious about. He just wants to help, and if Jensen’s the one doing the work, then that’s the person Jared’s going to help. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Let me spell it out for you, then,” Chad says. “Jensen doesn’t like any of us. He tolerates us, and that includes you, in case you were wondering.”

Working side by side with Jensen the last week has shed some light on things, but nothing all that informative. Jensen doesn’t talk much unless it’s to explain the reason why he’s doing something a particular way. He’s definitely not a sharing and caring kind of guy, but he doesn’t tell Jared to shut the hell up when he wants to talk, and Jared’s more than happy to fill the void of silence. On second thought, maybe he is just tolerating him.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him,” Chad continues. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing – we’re all human. I get it, man. I really do. I’m just saying it’s a lost cause because Jensen can’t see past himself.”

Jared’s eyes widen as realization sets in. Chad doesn’t really think… “Are you saying he doesn’t care about us?”

“Oh, he cares,” Chad amends. “In a survival of the fittest sort of way.”

“Dude, what’s gotten into you?” Jared asks. “If you think he just tolerates us, why don’t you ask him –”

Chad barks out a laugh. “He tolerates you guys. He wouldn’t piss on me to put out a fire. I fucked up, Jared.”

Jared stares at him, trying to piece together what had happened in the last twelve hours. He keeps coming up blank. “What did you do?”

Chad shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m just telling you how it is.” 

Apparently Chad swallowed a whole bucketful of crazy last night. “I don’t know where this is coming from, but it ain’t healthy, man. We have to stick together.”

Chad rolls his eyes and waves his hand dismissively. “Save it, Jared. I don’t need to hear the ‘all for one’ speech, okay? I know I’m the odd man out, the weakest link, and that’s okay. I still have a place to live, and out here, that’s all that matters.” He shrugs and kicks at the ground. “As your friend, I’m just telling you to back off. You’re barking up the wrong tree, okay?”

“Yeah, I… I have to get to work,” Jared says. 

Chad waves him away without a parting glance.

The sun is already shining brightly overhead when Jared makes his way out to Jensen, who’s tilling the last of the field. Jared watches him work, muscles rippling underneath a fine sheen of sweat. He blinks several times, trying to match what Chad said to the man standing in front of him. It’s not working. 

“Morning,” Jared says. 

Jensen’s eyes dart to the side, to the sun that’s already crawling its way to its high point, and grunts, his typical morning greeting.

Jared should get the seeds and follow along behind him, performing the same tasks they’ve done together the last few days. He should keep his mouth shut and get to work. Unfortunately Jared was never good at the former. “So Chad thinks you hate him.”

Jensen pauses, hands frozen with the hoe in midair. He shakes his head, blinks and continues on. 

Jared’s eyes narrow. Jensen should say something, and he should do it now. “Did you hear me? I said Chad thinks you –”

“Yeah, I heard you,” Jensen snaps. He doesn’t stop working, his movements precise and controlled. “Just wondering why I should care.”

Jared’s jaw drops and he stares blankly at Jensen. “Why you should care? Jensen, he thinks you hate him.”

“And?”

“Dude, what is your major malfunction?”

“I don’t have time for this, Jared.” 

He’s being dismissed, but he’s not going quietly. “You should make time,” Jared replies angrily. “For whatever reason, there are people here that think you can’t stand the sight of them, and –”

“And what?” Jensen interjects, voice rising. “I’m supposed to give a shit about that? I care about surviving, Jared. Everything else is just… everything else.” 

Suddenly Chad’s cryptic words are making more sense. It’s like the wool is being lifted from his eyes. “There’s more to life than having a full stomach.”

“Not in my life there isn’t.”

Jared stares at him, the dream dying in his eyes. “You really don’t give a shit about anyone else, do you?”

“You act like this is news,” Jensen growls, shouldering past Jared to continue down the row. “I’m a survivor. If other people happen to make it with me, it’s just gravy.”

Jared stares at his back, swallowing down the bile in his throat. “You’re a fuckin’ asshole.” 

If Jensen responds, Jared doesn’t hear it.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D1.jpg)

Jensen spends the next two days in isolation, working long hours and coming back to camp after dinner has been taken away. Judging from the wary looks he gets when he’s in camp, he figures Jared has spread the news of their discussion in the field. It isn’t pretty, but he wasn’t expecting to make any new friends. They don’t have to like him or enjoy his company. It’s not a prerequisite for survival.

He had all but taken Chad’s head off when he found him fast asleep while on watch duty. He’d bitched Chad up one side and down the other before dismissing him to his room while Jensen took the rest of his shift. But it was done. Finished. And Jensen is the last person who’d ever rat someone out. Let Jared believe whatever he wants to believe. It isn’t Jensen’s story to tell.

On the morning of the third day, Chris is waiting for him when he crawls out of his room. 

“Mornin’,” Chris says, passing him a cup of coffee. It’s instant and it tastes like heaven. Jensen doesn’t ask him where he got it. Chris has been known to harbor things in his room. “So you’ve been making friends.”

Jensen grunts, determined not to let anything ruin his first sip of coffee in over a year. 

“Well, you know I ain’t one for small talk so I’m going to cut to the chase,” Chris says. “Me and Chad are going on a run today.”

Jensen’s eyes widen and he chokes on his second sip of coffee, fighting like hell not to spit it into the dirt. “You’re doing what?” This might be the stupidest thing he’s heard all month.

“We need a change a change of scenery,” Chris says. “Anyway, I wanna see if I can get more smokes.”

“You’re full of shit. You know we don’t make raids without –”

Chris raises his hand. “Save it, Jenny Bean. It’s a fuel run. That’s all. I’ve done them a dozen times without you.”

“Yeah, but…”

“It’ll be fine,” Chris promises. Jensen knows his mind is made up and wonders how long they’ve been planning this without him. “Anyway, the kid’s in a funk. Gonna try to rattle his cage a little and see if I can bring him out of it.”

Chad has all but run in the opposite direction every time Jensen has made an appearance lately, so if there’s a chance this might help, Jensen’s going to roll with it. He might not like it, but in the end, it’s not his decision.

“If something happens to you, I swear to God I’ll kick your ass from here to California.”

Chris grins and slaps him on the back. “That’s the spirit.” He goes to find Chad and they leave together in the Jeep. Jensen tries to tamp down the sinking feeling in his stomach that this might somehow be the beginning of the end.

Everyone sticks close to camp, making up various reasons for needing to be here when Chad and Chris get back. As day gives way to night, Jensen doesn’t think something’s wrong, he knows it. He doesn’t eat dinner, and no one says a word when he stalks from one end of the camp to the other as the night slowly crawls by. 

The night bleeds away to dawn, and the sounds of an engine rumble down the dusty road. Everyone runs to meet the Jeep, but Jensen hangs back, struggling to keep air in his lungs.

“Oh my god,” Danneel screams. 

Jensen finds his legs then, and runs to the Jeep where Jared and Misha are helping Chris out of the driver’s seat. His leg is shredded, eyes rolling back from pain as he struggles to speak. Chad is lying in the backseat, bloody, broken and gray. Jensen’s breath seizes in his lungs, and he can’t move. He could have stopped this. He shouldn’t have let them go. If he’d thrown a big enough fit, Chris would have listened to him – chalked it up to Jensen being a fuckin’ pussy, but they would have stayed and Chris would still be in one piece and Chad wouldn’t be broken almost beyond recognition.

“Mike,” Jared orders, meeting Mike’s gaze in the muddled light. “Help Misha with Chris. We need to get Chad inside.”

“It was the same one,” Chris says, eyes wide and painfully alert. “The same fuckin’ machine that keeps comin’ after us.”

“You don’t know that,” Danneel soothes, running her hands down Chris’s arms.

“Bullshit,” Chris roars. “Fucker was missing an eye. Had the same splice goin’ down its side. It’s the damn machine that came after me and Jensen when we went into the city the first time. It’s the one Chad shot a few months later. They’re healing themselves. Somehow – they’re healing themselves.”

“Come on, man,” Mike encourages, pulling Chris’s arm over his shoulder. Chris takes one fumbling step and his eyes roll to the back of his head. He goes down harder than a stack of bricks. Jared is talking to Chad in hushed tones and issuing orders left and right. When they carry him out of the backseat, Jensen knows he’s not breathing. _He’s not breathing._

And then there’s nothing. All the noise is drowned out, and Jensen can see mouths moving, people screaming, but there’s no sound. 

All of Jensen’s senses are honed to one specific point: someone is going to pay. That machine will die. 

It ends now.


	5. Chapter 5

“How can he just be gone?” Mike mutters.

Misha presses a cool cloth to Chris’s forehead. They’ve cleaned and stitched his leg, and thankfully Chris remained unconscious through that part. Chris bats away the cloth; he’s awake now and pissed. “Quit mothering me.”

“You’re hurt. Get over it,” Danneel says flatly.

Chris raises himself off the mattress and glances at Chad, who’s resting on a cot close by. Jared is hovering next to him, checking his IV and bandages.

“You should get some rest, Jared,” Mike offers. “We can watch them.”

Jared shakes his head, rubbing at his eyes. Chris is going to pull through. He’s already spitting insults and bitching at them for being mother hens. Things look good for Chad, but Jared knows he’s not out of the woods yet. Head wounds can be tricky, and this isn’t exactly John Hopkins.

“Someone needs to find Jensen,” Chris says for the fifth time.

“How?” Danneel asks bluntly. “He took off. We looked up and he was gone. Where do you think he’d go? Because I’m all ears.” In a world that has been chewed up and spit out by a violent war, there isn’t any place to go, and they all know that.

“Jensen’s not one for grand gestures,” Chris continues. “Maybe he went back to the fields.” No one calls that for the bullshit it is. It’s the middle of the night, and as talented as Jensen might be, he can’t see in the dark. The last thing Jensen will do is draw attention to the camp.

“Or maybe he finally snapped,” Misha points out quietly. 

“Then what pushed him over the edge?” Chris continues. 

Jared stares down at Chad, who’s unconscious, at Chris, who’s seriously wounded, and lifts his eyebrow. He doesn’t know Jensen as well as the others, but if what they’ve always said about him is true, if anything was going to push their would-be leader over the edge, seeing two of his friends badly injured would probably do it.

“Jensen doesn’t just leave,” Chris growls. “That’s not him. Not like this.”

“He’s not coming back, is he?” Mike murmurs, finally giving voice to what they’re all thinking, but too afraid to say. “People don’t just leave. Not here. And with the machines – I mean, fuck, you guys were attacked, and if Jensen went out there –”

“Wait, do you hear that?” Jared asks, craning his head. It’s definitely an engine.

“Right, then,” Chris says with a nod as he pushes himself off the bed.

Jared nearly trips over his own legs to get to Chris. “Whoa, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m gonna kick his ass,” Chris growls, daring Jared to tell him no. 

“And if that’s not Jensen?” Misha asks.

Chris doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s Jensen.”

Jared sighs, dragging his hand through his hair. “At least take the crutches.”

Between Mike, him and Danneel, they get Chris up the ladder. It’s against all of Jared’s good judgment, but he knows there’s not a damn thing he can do to keep Chris from his pound of flesh.

There’s no question who’s approaching them, sauntering through the shadows, face hidden in shades of gray. Danneel calls his name and Mike curses under his breath. Jensen comes closer, his footsteps steady in the warmth of the night.

Chris is wobbling toward him, awkward at best, and he drops one crutch in the dirt when Jensen’s within arm’s reach. His fist connects with Jensen’s jaw with a pop, and Jared winces as Jensen’s head snaps to the side.

Jensen lifts an eyebrow as blood starts to seep from his lip. “Finished?”

“For now,” Chris spits.

Jensen nods, resigned and deserving. He holds his position as if he expects Chris to take another swing at him, and it’s apparent he’s not going to do anything if he does. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alive, no thanks to you.”

“Good. That’s good.” Jensen swallows, and Jared wishes he’d come closer to the light so he can see his face, so he can see the secrets hidden in the depths of his eyes.

“And Chad’s okay, too. In case you were wondering,” Chris growls, using his crutch to slap Jensen’s knee. No one’s asking the one question they all want to know: _where the fuck were you?_

Jensen grunts, swallowing what looks an awful lot like pain, and Jared steps forward. Jensen’s leather jacket is ripped and his pants are torn. What the hell happened to him? 

“I wanna see him.”

“What about you, Jensen?” Jared asks. “Are you –”

“I need to see him,” Jensen growls. It’s inhuman and low, a hiss from bloody lips, and Jared backs out of his way.

Jared shares a look of concern with Mike and Danneel as Jensen walks past them to the makeshift medical unit. 

Jensen’s standing over Chad, staring down without blinking as they carefully assist Chris back into the room. Jared tries to get Chris to lie down, but he shoves him out of the way with his crutch, eyes glued to Jensen, who stares through bloodshot eyes. 

Jensen raises his left hand, fingers clenched so tight his scraped knuckles are bleached white, and he sets something down on the bedside table. Jared studies the object – it’s nothing more than a small red light, about the size of a silver dollar, with wires hanging from the end.

“Holy mother of fuck,” Chris whispers, eyes wide and face devoid of color.

Danneel’s holding her hand over her mouth, eyes tracking between the object and Jensen. “Is that… Jensen, what did you do?”

In a moment of crystal clarity, Jared realizes what it is. It’s the eye of a machine. 

Jensen’s hand ghosts over Chad’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

There’s blood on Jensen’s wrist. It’s dried now, but it’s there. Machines don’t go down easily. Whatever happened out there wasn’t easy and certainly wasn’t pretty. _Jensen, what the fuck did you do?_

“Hey, Jensen,” Jared says gently, keeping his voice low and even. “How about I take a look and make sure you’re okay?”

Jensen’s gaze slides to him, unhurried and unconcerned. “I’m fine.”

Jared swallows and doesn’t know what he’ll do if Jensen flat out refuses. “Maybe I could take a look anyway? Please?”

Jensen nods to Chad, dismissing Jared’s concern immediately. “Look after him.”

Danneel reaches out and Jensen backs away. He shakes his head like he doesn’t know why he just did that. “Honey, we’ll stay with Chad. We’ve got first aid training, too. It’ll be fine.”

“He’ll be fine,” Chris promises. “We’ll all stay.” He mouths to Jared, “He’ll be more comfortable in his room.” As shell-shocked as Jensen is right now, he needs something familiar, something safe.

“But only if you go,” Mike says aloud.

Jensen’s eyes drop, and he shuts down, shoulders tilting in. “You’re right. I should go.”

“With Jared,” Mike amends quickly. “You should go with Jared.” Mike glances at Jared, and he looks afraid, like he doesn’t know what to say. None of them knows what to say right now. They’re skating on thin ice that’s cracking all around them.

“Okay, come on, Jen,” Jared says, grasping at straws. He hopes like hell Jensen will follow him. “Let’s go, yeah?”

“With you?”

Jared nods. “Yeah, unless you’d rather someone else go with you?” It’s hard to get the words out. He wants what’s best for Jensen and if that’s not him, he’ll understand. He has no right to Jensen, no claim, and he’ll be the first to step aside as long as Jensen gets whatever treatment he might need.

Jensen shakes his head, forehead wrinkling at the thought. “Gotta stay with Chad.”

“We are, baby,” Danneel promises gently. “Just go with Jared. We want to make sure you’re okay, too.”

“I’m fine,” Jensen repeats, and Jared feels like they’ve fallen into the Twilight Zone. They’re familiar words falling from Jensen’s bruised lips, words he’s said a thousand times before. It doesn’t matter if they’re true or not; he just says them because that’s what he always says, a habit as familiar as breathing.

“Come on, Jen,” Jared repeats, reaching for his elbow. He gives a silent cry for joy when Jensen doesn’t immediately pull away. He guides him to the ladder, all eyes watching them closely, and when Jensen stares at it for a few seconds like it’s a complex Chinese puzzle, Jared reaches for his hands and sets them on a rung. “Up.”

It’s a small order, but Jensen starts moving and Jared follows closely. If he falls, he’s going to fall on Jared, which beats hitting concrete.

Jared leans down to close the hatch, and Danneel is standing underneath, staring up at him. “Take care of him, okay?”

Jared glances across the room to Mike and Chris, and he knows they’re entrusting him with something important, something precious. “Yeah, I will.” 

He closes the hatch and guides Jensen to his room.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D2.jpg)

“So he did snap,” Misha concludes after he checks Chad’s IV.

“Watch it,” Chris growls. 

There are a lot of things he knows about Jensen; things he’s willing to accept and things he understands because he’s been with him for so long. Chris has seen Jensen take hit after hit, never going down, never surrendering. Always willing to go the extra mile to keep the camp alive. He’s not naïve – Jensen is far from perfect. He always wondered what it would take to make Jensen snap, and now he knows.

“Unless machines are walking around offering their eye sockets, there’s only one way that went down,” Mike says.

“What kind of machine was it?” Danneel asks. She wasn’t around when Chad, Chris, Mike and Jensen first encountered that machine, but she’s heard Chad’s stories about how he’d taken out its eye from over one hundred yards, buying them enough time to get away.

“It was a BD.”

The room falls silent at the name. A Bringer of Death – the war machine built to take down cities.

Misha whistles and shakes his head. “I thought you said he wasn’t one for grand gestures.”

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D3.jpg)

Jensen drops into his room ahead of Jared. Jared hopes the familiar surroundings will settle his nerves. Even if he doesn’t want to talk, hopefully he’ll be a compliant patient.

“Let’s get your jacket off,” Jared says as he reaches for the torn leather. Jensen backs up almost immediately and Jared sighs. Shock is a powerful condition, and if Jensen is hiding something serious, Jared needs to know. “Would you rather I get Danneel or Mike?” Or anyone. He’ll wake up the whole camp if he has to.

“I said I’m fine,” Jensen grumbles. He’s swaying on his feet, eyes blinking rapidly as he tries to focus, and Jared can clearly see the dried blood on his hands.

Jared’s at a loss, and the five feet Jensen stands away from him might as well be another continent. “I don’t know what the magic word is,” Jared says quietly.

Jensen tilts his head to the side, green eyes focusing on him for the first time since he came back. “Magic word?”

Jared nods. “Whatever it takes for you to let me help. Just tell me the magic word, and I’ll say it. Please, Jen. Just let me help you.” He’s pleading now, begging for Jensen to let him get close.

Whatever nonsense just flowed out of his mouth seems to unlock something in Jensen, and he pulls off his jacket with a hiss. Jared’s eyes track the movement and his gaze lands on the frayed tee shirt underneath. It’s tattered and ripped; what was once white is now tinged coppery brown. Jared waves his hand to the material barely clinging to Jensen’s shoulders. “Your shirt.”

Jensen’s gaze slides lazily down. “What about it?”

If it wasn’t so heartbreaking, Jared might laugh. “Take it off.”

“Didn’t realize you were in such a hurry to see me naked.”

Jared’s not sure if that’s a joke, if he should laugh or deny it or rip the offending piece of cloth off Jensen’s body and be done with it. Everything he thinks he knows about Jensen just got turned on its head, and he might as well be standing across from a complete stranger.

“You gotta work with me,” Jared says. “Just take it off, okay?” Jensen clumsily pulls at the frayed hem, his fingers struggling to grip the torn material. “I can help. If you want, I can –”

“I got it,” Jensen says flatly, his fingers finally finding purchase and starting to tug.

Jared turns around to give him the illusion of privacy and searches the room for supplies. There’s a water basin that he fills with clean water from a sealed plastic bag. It’s probably meant for Jensen’s shower later. There’s a kit under the bedside table with tweezers, bandages and ointment inside. Jensen’s better prepared than Jared thought. 

From the corner of his eye, he sees what used to be a tee shirt drop to the floor. He keeps his instructions simple, curt, but not harsh. Jensen doesn’t deserve callousness. “Get on the bed.” Jensen’s gaze scans the room, and Jared worries he’s going to bolt. Or worse, he’s going to tell Jared to leave. He sees cuts on Jensen’s shoulders, and from this angle most of them look superficial. “Need something?”

“A towel,” Jensen says. “I don’t want to get anything on the bed.”

Jared tenses his jaw so he doesn’t blurt out _just how bad is it?_ He finds a towel in the improvised shower. Jensen backs up as he approaches, and he spreads the towel across the foot of the bed. “That okay?”

Jensen looks at the towel, swallowing. “You should check on Chad.”

Jared shakes his head, not wanting to go over this again. “Chad’s with Chris, Misha, Danneel and Mike. They’re watching him.” He pats the end of the bed. “Just let me check. I’ll make it quick.”

“I’m –”

“Fine, I know. Let me look anyway. I’ll just worry if you don’t.”

“Shouldn’t worry,” Jensen mutters as he stretches out on the bed over the towel, resting his legs off the side. He hisses, swallowing a grunt of pain. His muscles quiver as he tries to find a comfortable position.

Jared shifts the light so he can see better and leans over Jensen, eyes widening at the mess on his back. The words are out before he can stop them. “Jesus fucking Christ, Jensen!”

Jensen pulls his arms underneath him, pushing up on his elbows as he struggles to rise. He grunts in pain, trying to swallow it down as blood oozes down his back. 

“No, no,” Jared says, finding the one patch of clean skin on Jensen’s shoulder and pressing his hand there. “Stay put. I just… how did this…?” Jensen grunts, studying something across the room, eyes unblinking. Jared pushes on his elbow, a gentle prod. “Lie back down.”

Jensen stays stock still, body half risen from the bed, every muscle in his back rigid. The tension has to be pulling on the cuts, stretching the abused skin tighter.

“Please, Jensen,” Jared pleads. 

Finally, Jensen stretches out, pillowing his head on his arm and letting the other fall off the side of the bed. 

Jared waits a few seconds to make sure Jensen’s not going to move before retrieving the basin of water and a clean cloth. There’s gravel and rocks embedded in his skin, blood caked with dirt across the scratches in his back. The enormity and responsibility of this is overwhelming, and it’s a task that should be done in a hospital or at least a doctor’s office. “Um… Jensen? This might not be quick.”

Jensen nods once, rolling his forehead against his folded arm, resigned. He’s not surprised. “Just do it.” 

It takes Jared two hours to clean the marred flesh, to dig the pebbles and pieces of debris out of Jensen’s back. Old scars crisscross with fresh cuts. Jensen’s back is the storybook of his life, one hundred lifetimes written in his flesh. It’s intimate and heartbreaking, and Jared feels like he has no right to be touching Jensen like this. 

Jensen never says a word, just quiet exhales of pain, shoulders quivering as Jared washes the blood away. Jared never stops talking; soft apologies and tender praise fill the room as he works. He covers Jensen’s back with ointment, keeping his touch as light as possible. He bandages the worst cuts as best he can. Jensen’s eyes are closed, eyelashes feathering his cheeks, and before Jared can think about it, he presses the tiniest kiss to Jensen’s shoulder, nothing more than a puff of air.

“I think that’s it,” Jared says as he stands. He coughs, tamping his emotions down. It’s intense and too much. It’s everything and nothing, and he feels like he’s drowning. “It’s the best I can do. I’m sorry.” His best doesn’t feel like nearly enough.

“’S fine,” Jensen mumbles, using his elbows to crawl up the bed. He swallows grunts of pain with the quiet stoicism that Jared’s come to associate with him.

Jared removes the towel, folds it and sets it aside to be washed. He scrubs his hands, watching as the water tinges red. He tells himself he can’t leave yet; if Jensen needs something during the night, he’s hardly in a position to get it himself. Jared knows the truth, though: he needs to stay more than Jensen needs him here. He can’t leave Jensen alone. Not now, not after this. Not after nearly losing an incredible person whom he hasn’t had the chance to get to know.

He sits on the chair in the corner of the room, hoping Jensen won’t notice. If he stays real quiet, there’s a chance…

Green eyes open and land on him like pinpoint lasers. “What’re you doing?”

“I thought I’d, you know, just hang around in case you need something.” He needs to be close to Jensen right now like he needs oxygen. He can’t explain or justify it. He just needs… _Please let me stay._

“You need to rest, Jared.” 

Exhaustion pricks at the backs of his eyes, so Jared doesn’t deny it. He feels strung out, worn down, and so fucking tired he could stretch out on Jensen’s concrete floor and sleep for a week. “Yeah, I know.” But some things are more important than sleep.

Jensen nods as he slides an arm under his body and shuffles to one side of the bed. “Come on, then.”

Jared’s leg falls off his knee and he sits up abruptly. Is Jensen actually offering what Jared thinks – and can’t dare to hope – he’s offering? “I’m not sure I understand.”

Jensen’s eyes drift closed, and Jared wills him to answer. “Only if you want.”

Jensen’s no wilting flower. He’ll tell Jared if he’s misinterpreted. Jared walks to the bed slowly; it’s like being a trance. He kicks off his shoes and stretches out on the bed, trying to jostle Jensen as little as possible.

Jensen rolls his head and rests his chin on his right shoulder. Jared can’t think, can’t breathe, and he bites his lower lip and turns so he’s resting on his side.

“I’m sorry,” Jared murmurs. He thought he wouldn’t be able to pull his gaze from Jensen’s injuries, but when he’s this close, Jared can’t look at anything but his eyes. It’s one of the most intimate moments in his life.

“’S not your fault, Jared,” Jensen says softly. “You didn’t do this.”

Jared shakes his head. If something had happened to Jensen today, Jared wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself. The shit he said to him the other day, the accusations and assumptions he spit from his lips. He was wrong, so terribly wrong. “The other day, in the field, what I said to you. I had no right…”

Jensen’s eyes narrow, a frown marring his face. “Don’t, okay? This doesn’t change anything.”

 _Huh?_ “What? Jensen, what you did today, although stupid – don’t ever do that again, okay?” He has a feeling he’s not going to be the only one saying that.

“I didn’t do anything, Jared. I wasn’t thinking. After I saw Chris, and then Chad...” He shivers, burying his face in his arms. “I wanted blood. I wanted revenge. That machine was gonna fuckin’ die for what it did. If it was the last thing I did.” Jared bites his lip and risks skimming his fingers over Jensen’s shoulder. It nearly was the last thing Jensen did. “I’m not a hero; never was and never will be. Don’t let this change your mind about me. It was never about that.”

Words slip past Jared’s lips before his mind has time to filter them. “I think you’re amazing.” Even if he didn’t think the words through, that doesn’t make them any less true. Jensen huffs, and Jared knows Jensen doesn’t believe him. He’s not surprised; he went from calling him an asshole to calling him amazing.

“Please don’t,” Jensen murmurs as he squeezes his eyes closed. 

“Okay, I’ll stop.” One day Jared will tell him all the reasons why, but today he’ll savor this and be thankful he’s been given the opportunity to be here, to be with Jensen. Jared presses his lips to Jensen’s shoulder and settles against the pillow. Jensen’s eyes don’t open, and Jared watches him as his body finally relaxes, his features smoothing out.

Sometime during the night, callused fingers wrap around his and Jared smiles as Jensen follows him into his dreams.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D4.jpg)

Jensen wakes with a groan, body protesting as he shifts position. Jared lifts his head, instantly awake, with his hair sticking in all directions. “You okay?”

Jensen was hoping he’d be able to adjust positions without waking Jared. It’s been a long time since he’s shared his bed with anyone; lying here next to Jared, despite the throbbing pain in his back, feels nice. 

Jensen nods, pressing Jared back down with the flat of his hand. “Just trying to get comfortable.” Jared takes his hand and holds it close, lowering his gaze. Jensen squeezes once, _it’s okay._

There’s so much Jensen wants to say, wants to ask. Never in a million years did he expect Jared to follow him back to his room last night. He knew he’d fucked up his back; that machine dragged him for a half mile before he was able to finally cut the cable and bring it down. He figured he’d come back, keep vigil over Chris and Chad, then lick his wounds in private and beg forgiveness in the morning. And then Jared happened, and Jensen allowed it. It’s more than that – Jensen relished it, treasured feeling cared for. After all the shit he’s done, he knows he doesn’t deserve this. Jensen is many things – amazing is certainly not one of them. It’s not even the same ballpark. 

Fingertips ghost over his brow. “You’re thinking too much.” Jensen bites down on his lower lip, torn skin stinging from the pressure. “Hey, stop,” Jared chides, rubbing at his mouth until he releases his lip. “I wish you’d talk to me.”

Talking is not his thing. Even before the war, he wasn’t much for conversation, and most of what he did say was complete bullshit anyway. Now he just doesn’t bother. Actions speak louder than words, and what he can’t find the words for, he hopes he somehow manages to convey.

Jared sighs and traces invisible patterns on his face. “But I know you won’t, and that’s okay, too. I might never understand you, Jensen, but I want to try. God, I want to try.” Jared’s fingers curl over his jaw and rest against his throat gently. “So this is what we’re gonna do: I won’t push, and you won’t throw me out, okay?” 

Jensen pauses, trying to piece together his thoughts. Does Jared actually think Jensen’s going to throw him out? Now? After what he’s done for him? What he’s _doing_? Jensen made every effort to shut Jared down at each pass, opting to remain distant and single-minded, and Jared still remained, and he’s here now. If anyone has been throwing mixed signals, it’s Jensen.

Jared coughs, fingers loosening. “Unless you want to throw me out. Then I get it. It’s cool, really.” Jensen nudges Jared’s hand, catching his ring finger in his mouth and biting down, just hard enough to leave the imprints of his teeth. Jared’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, then his eyelids lower. “Good; wasn’t going to go anyway.”

Jensen releases Jared’s finger, tongue dancing along the pad as Jared slowly pulls his hand away. 

“Sleep,” Jared rumbles, resting his hand on the top of Jensen’s head. He rubs Jensen’s scalp, and Jensen fights as long as he can, but he’s only human, and Jared’s skilled fingers send him off on the wings of slumber.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D1.jpg)

Jared strides through the camp, savoring the warmth of the sun as it beats down on his back. Chris is sitting at the table with his bandaged leg stretched out in front of him as Mike fills his plate with food.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Mike says.

“Hey, guys,” Jared replies as he plops down across from them. He’s slightly disappointed to find Jensen’s not with them, but he’s not completely shocked. He just hopes Jensen’s taking it easy. If he finds out he’s gone to the fields, Jared swears he’s going to kick his ass. More likely he’ll get Danneel to it for him, because despite the night he and Jensen shared, he doubts they’re on ass-kicking terms yet.

“How’d it go?” Chris asks. There’s no question as to whom or what Chris is talking about.

Jared shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. “It went.” He can’t get the image of Jensen stretched out, swallowing grunts of pain as his back was painstakingly cleaned and wrapped, out of his head. “He was pretty banged up.”

Mike nods. “It was a BD. Not like the machine stood around while Jensen plucked out its eye.” Mike leans forward, folding his hands and trying to look disinterested when he asks, “Did Jensen tell you how that all went down?”

Jared shakes his head. “Not a word.”

“I’m not surprised,” Chris says, shrugging. 

“A BD, Chris. He’s gonna have to tell us,” Mike says. “We need to know.”

Chris tips back his drink, wincing as he swallows, and Jared realizes that’s probably not water he’s drinking. The admonishment dies on his tongue when Chris says, “Not today. Today I just want to be happy we’re all alive.” Jared will drink to that, and he ladles some water from the bucket and takes several long swallows.

“At least he’s sleeping off the worst of it,” Chris muses. “I’m guessing those Vicodin took the edge off. I was hoping they still had a little punch left in them.”

“Vicodin?” Jared asks dumbly. 

Chris stares at him, blinking. “Yeah, the old Vicodin bottle he’s got stashed in his dresser for emergencies. He took some, right?”

Jared bites his lip and barely resists slapping himself for not searching all of Jensen’s cabinets and drawers or asking him if he had anything to take for the pain. Considering the state Jensen was in, chances are he didn’t even remember having the bottle of stowed away medication.

“That stoic, stupid mother fucker,” Chris growls, his hand curling into a fist where it rests on his thigh. “I swear to God, my leg’s gonna heal, and I’m going to pound his pretty face in.”

Misha wanders toward them, rubbing his eyes as he fights off the last remnants of sleep. “Who are we fighting, and isn’t it a little early for pounding someone’s face in?”

Mike jerks his head up, eyeing Misha carefully. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Chad?”

“Jensen kicked me out a couple of hours ago. Said I needed to sleep. And Chad is still unconscious so I figured I’d give Jensen some privacy.”

“So you just left?” Chris asks, his voice hard.

“He basically told me to get lost,” Misha amends. “He was just trying to be polite.”

Chris drops his head on the table. “I don’t have the energy for this. I swear, if he didn’t sleep…”

“He did,” Jared says quickly. “Some, anyway.”

“Don’t believe anything Jensen tells you,” Mike says flatly. “He won’t outright lie, but he damn sure will lead you to believe whatever it is that he thinks will get you off his back.”

“No, he did. I know he did because –” Jared pauses and rubs his thumb across the grain in the old wooden table. “I know because I was with him.”

Three heads turn and all eyes are on him. Jared holds his head up, waiting for someone to say something. What, he has no idea. God, he’s suddenly seeing that scene from Dirty Dancing in his head, when Baby announces she was with Johnny when the wallets were stolen, and how is this happening to him? When did his life become a sappy chick flick from the eighties? 

Chris recovers first and simply says, “Huh.” 

Mike and Chris pick at their food, but Misha holds Jared’s gaze, eyes bright and assessing.

Jared rubs his face. He could lay his head on the table and sleep for another four hours if he had some peace and quiet. He has no idea what the fallout to all this is going to be. Chris’s leg is going to need time to heal, Chad is still unconscious, and Jensen is faking it until he makes it or whatever.

“So what happens now?”

“Life,” Mike says flatly. Chris flicks a piece of fruit at him which Mike catches and stuffs in his mouth. “What? I’m not Jensen, okay?”

“We’re gonna have to get back to the fields. Crops need to be watered and the corn needs to be harvested soon,” Chris says.

“You’re not going to be doing shit,” Mike says bluntly. “Unless you want to sit on your fat ass on the four-wheeler and bark out orders. You can do that if you want.”

“I’m not dead, Mike. I can still –”

“I’m going to have to agree with Mr. Rosenbaum here,” Misha interjects. “You need to rest your leg.”

“You can keep Jensen company,” Jared says. “He needs to stay off his feet. At least no bending for awhile.”

Chris drops his head on the table again. “This is going to be a disaster,” he moans as Mike pats his shoulder consolingly.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D2.jpg)

Jensen spends most of his day with Chad. He reads him two of the graphic novels Chad keeps secretly stashed under his bed. He regales him with stories of his youth, some true and some not so much. He makes up a story about a dragon, a prince and a well endowed princess because he thinks Chad would like a story like that. In the end, he simply tells him to wake up soon because they all miss him.

Misha drops into the room later with Danneel close on his heels. “Shift change,” Danneel says with so much forced cheer that Jensen’s teeth grate.

“It’s not a shift,” Jensen says, his voice hard. Is that why they think he’s doing this? He’s just taking his turn like everyone else? “I’m not here because I have to be.”

“No, baby,” she says, her voice gentling in an instant, and that just makes it worse. It’s like they’re all on eggshells around him, and he’s biting their heads off for no good reason. What makes it worse is he can’t seem to make himself stop. “We know that."

Jensen knows he’s given a lot of free rein to do whatever he wants, and his behavior often goes unchallenged, but now he just wants to feel like part of the group, to feel like he can be with them and no one’s going to wonder about an ulterior motive. It’s true what they say: he’s built this bed and now he has to lie down and die in it. 

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” Misha asks.

The question throws Jensen off guard. “Huh? I don’t – why?”

Misha gives him a patient smile. “’Cause it’s time for dinner, and you need to eat.” Jensen’s gaze falls to Chad. “We’ll get you if there’s any change.”

Jensen lifts his eyebrow, and Danneel adds, “I promise.”

Jensen nods and feels himself relent. He’s not a complete moron – he knows he should eat something. Considering the circumstances, he wouldn’t put it past Chris to have another go at him with his crutches if he doesn’t.

He pulls himself up the ladder, skin stretching across his back, and he bites his lip until he tastes the coppery tang of blood. He refuses to give voice to the pain. The last thing the group needs is someone else to worry about.

He doesn’t realize they’re already worried.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D3.jpg)

People are still milling around after the meal, and Jared knows it’s because they want to see Jensen, want to make sure he’s still in one piece. News travels fast, and the whole camp probably knew what Jensen did before he dragged himself out of bed this morning.

They’re talking about better camp defenses when Jensen ambles up. He’s walking slow, choosing his steps carefully as he studies the ground in front of him, and Jared notices immediately. Chris is tracking the sluggish movements as well. Jensen gets a plate and fills it with enough food for a person about half his size. 

The camp is eerily quiet, and Jared wonders how that makes Jensen feel, when everything falls silent the second he approaches. The hush becomes unbearable, and Jared greets him because he doesn’t know what else to do. “Hey, Jensen.”

Jensen nods once, a mute greeting, and sets his plate on the table. 

“So, we’re talking about a new early detection system,” Mike says, trying to steer the conversation to someplace other than awkward silence. “Solar lights. We could use them in our rooms if the guide wires are tripped. If we could get a hold of some more batteries, we could keep the alarms charged, and there’s a chance we could have more than three minutes before the machines got here.”

Jensen’s building a fortress out of his apricots and blackberries so the kale doesn’t invade. He looks up when he realizes the conversation has died around him.

Mike bites his lip and nods in Jensen’s direction. “So what do you think?”

Jensen looks as if he doesn’t have any idea why Mike’s asking for his approval, as if the entire conversation just passed him by. “Sounds good?”

Mike looks to Chris, who gives him a reassuring smile. The conversation stumbles, restarts and picks up again.

Jensen looks down and James is standing next to him, eyes wide. Jensen passes him the blackberry that’s marking the top of his makeshift fortress. James pops it in his mouth and bites down, grinning as juice drips down his chin. Jensen gives him another just to watch him smile. He ends up feeding him all the berries he has on his plate.

When he turns, Chris is watching Jared, who’s watching Jensen’s exchange with James with keen interest. Jensen opts to study his kale. It’s simpler than trying to navigate the unspoken conversation.

“I’ll do field duty with Mike tomorrow,” Jared offers. He holds out an apricot to Jensen as he keeps talking to Chris. Jensen shrugs one shoulder, wincing as the skin pulls tight across his back, and takes it, popping the small piece of fruit into his mouth. Without giving it any thought, he eats three more pieces that Jared hands him.

Jared continues to pass him bits of fruit and a broken piece of a loaf of bread. He keeps talking, and Jensen wonders if Jared even realizes he’s giving away all his food. He ends up taking whatever Jared offers him, too tired to think up a logical argument to refuse.

Some of the tension seems to fade, and the conversation moves on, topics drifting around him, and Jensen lets them all slide by. He’s exhausted, hurting and ready to wake up tomorrow and get back to his life.

When he wakes in the morning, his life still isn’t ready to get back to him.


	6. Chapter 6

The group watches as Jensen mentally retreats, pulling further away with each passing day. Attempts at conversation are met with grunts of dismissal, and offers of company are given Jensen’s bandage-covered back. Jensen spends most of his time with Chad and disappears almost immediately when someone comes to check on them. 

Things still function and life goes on because it has to – the world stops for no one – but the void is there and everyone in the camp feels it.

“You gotta do something,” Danneel hisses as she passes a washed out pot to Chris to dry. Chris has been on light duty – Mike’s words, not his – while his leg heals. He’s handled it with the grace and dignity befitting his station, which means he bitched about it, no one listened, bitched some more, and the group came to a compromise involving food prep and dish duty.

“And what exactly do you think I should do? Beat him into his former self? You think that will work? The harder we push, the more he runs. He’s just not going anywhere.” If Chris thought punching Jensen in the face would actually accomplish something, he would have done it days ago.

Danneel sighs and scrubs the large cast iron pot much harder than necessary. 

“It’ll get better,” Chris offers quietly. “Once Chad wakes up, things will get better.”

Danneel nods and wipes her nose on her sleeve. When Chris looks at her from the corner of his eye, she says, “It’s the soap.”

“Yeah, sure it is.”

They work together in silence, finishing up the evening’s dishes while the others sort seeds. 

“I miss him,” Danneel whispers, flicking the suds off her fingers. The bubbles waft in the air before slowly sinking to the ground.

“Which one?” Chris asks, because these days, there’s no telling.

Danneel shrugs. “Take your pick.”

“Yeah, me too.”

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D4.jpg)

Chad wakes up in the evening of the third day since he was carried back into the camp.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D1.jpg)

Everyone is crammed into the small makeshift medical unit, and Jared slips out after he makes sure Chad’s got everything he needs. If he doesn’t, there are at least six people that are willing to get him anything he asks for. He’s just about charmed Mike into bringing Betsy, or at least a piece of Betsy, down for a visit. He finds Jensen sitting on a folding chair next to the common area.

“Chad’s awake,” Jared says. It’s unnecessary because Jensen knows; he’s the one that screamed for Misha and Chris the second Chad showed the tiniest hint of movement.

“So I hear.”

Jared bites the inside of his cheek, fighting back harsh words that won’t help and certainly won’t make Jensen do anything but dig his heels even further into the dirt. “You could, you know, go say hello or something.” When Jensen doesn’t respond, Jared adds, “At least tell him you’re happy he’s not dead.”

Jensen sighs and rubs his forehead like he can will Jared away with the power of his mind alone. It makes him look older, wearier. “He knows, Jared.”

“Still, maybe you could –”

“He knows!” Jensen barks. The small explosion of fury saps whatever waning energy he has left. “Just… he knows.”

Jared nods and backs away, giving Jensen the space he thinks he needs. It looks like strategic retreat. It feels like failure.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D2.jpg)

Chad’s out of bed on the fifth day and demanding a hot shower. No one seems interested in risking him face-planting on the concrete floor, so the river is the next best thing.

After being surrounded by people for days and never having a second alone to pick his nose or get reacquainted with his right hand, his temper is short at best. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the attention; he’s Chad Michael Murray, he fucking _loves_ the attention. But what he really wants is two seconds of peace to collect his thoughts and finally feel normal again. Or the closest possible thing to normal, whatever that might be.

“Easy,” Danneel says as she slides her arm around his waist. “Now, the water’s going to be cold. I don’t want you staying in for long.” Apparently when he woke up, he also regressed to twelve years old.

“I brought the towels,” Jared announces as he appears on Chad’s left side. He looks relaxed enough, but Chad can tell he’s poised for action if Chad so much as thinks about stumbling. It’s too much. They’re too close, hands on his body, expectations and whispers of encouragement that he just can’t take right now.

“Do you need help with your shirt?” Danneel asks as she slides her hands down his sides. 

He must really be losing it, because he jerks away, leaving her grasping at air. “I got it.”

“Chad, honey, we just want to help,” Danneel replies gently.

“I just… five minutes. I need five minutes.” He stares at the ground, confused and wishing nothing more than to disappear. His friends have taken care of him when he was nothing but a liability, a dead weight, and he should be on his knees thanking them, not pushing them away. 

On some level Jared must get it, because he places his hand on Danneel’s shoulder and pulls her away. “Call us if you need anything, yeah? We’ll be just over there.” He points to the hill, and Chad nods without lifting his head.

Chad waits until he can’t hear their retreating steps any longer, and he pulls his shirt over his head. It hurts, a sharp twinge through his body, and he bites his lip, refusing to give voice to the pain. His pants are easier, falling around his ankles the second he unsnaps the button. He’s lost weight.

The water separates as he inches into the lake, cool water sliding around his ankles as he takes another step. When the level reaches his thighs he drops to his knees, hands grasping at the small metal piece attached to a leather string around his neck. He stays like that, head bowed and eyes closed until his mind registers another presence, close but not threatening. Only the quiet murmurs of camp echo in the distance, but he feels eyes on his back. “Thought I asked for five minutes.”

“You didn’t ask me for shit.”

_Jensen._

Chad turns his head and Jensen is stretched out on the bank, elbows resting on bent knees. For someone who always has something to say, a witty retort or a quick joke, Chad finds himself lacking. “Hey.”

Jensen nods once before his eyes drift away to the sky, giving Chad the privacy he thought he wanted. Chad shrugs and dips beneath the water, running his hands through his hair as he tries to wash away the dried blood that only total submersion could begin to remove. When he resurfaces, he swims a few dozen yards and feels the pull in his muscles, the warmth as they begin to stretch. His mind blanks out; all the things he figures he should say to Jensen disappear with long strokes of his arms through the murky water.

Eventually he stops swimming and just kicks his legs to keep his head above water. “The water’s real nice. You could swim, you know.”

“I could.”

“But you won’t.”

Jensen shakes his head. “Nope.”

And that’s the beauty of Jensen. He’s there because he wants to be. Jensen does what’s required to keep the camp running, to keep food on the table and keep people safe. He doesn’t offer his company unless he wants to, and Chad takes it for what it is: Jensen wanting to hang out here with him.

Chad tires quickly, his muscles protesting as he swims one more lap. His feet sink into the muddy water as he starts toward the shore. He’s shaking when he makes it to the riverbank, and if Jensen notices, he doesn’t comment on it or offer his assistance. Chad dries off, dragging the towel up his legs before wrapping it around his shoulders. His chest is exposed, and Jensen’s head cants to the left, his eyes studying the swinging charm that’s fastened around Chad’s neck. It’s the eye of the machine.

“Nice pendant.”

Without thinking, Chad wraps his hand around the mechanical piece that’s resting against his cool skin. He feels his heart racing, thudding against the knuckles of his fist. “A friend picked it up for me.”

Jensen nods once, but doesn’t look away. “Huh. Must be a good friend.”

Chad smiles, just the barest tilt of his lips. “Yeah, he is. They don’t just give these things away, you know.”

Jensen laughs, shaking his head as he shifts and narrows his gaze against the setting sun. “So I’m told.”

Chad wants to ask how he did it – how the hell Jensen managed to take down a BD where governments and highly trained militaries had failed. He wants to tell Jensen that he’s a stupid fuck for risking his life like that, for going off half-cocked even if it paid off in the end, and ask him what the hell he thought they were going to do without him because, even though no one is irreplaceable, Jensen’s pretty damn close.

Chad squeezes the burned-out LED a final time and drops his hand. “So, are you going to sit out here sunning yourself when there’s no sun left or are you going to come eat dinner?”

Jensen’s eyes crinkle around the corners as he gazes at the horizon. “It’s nice out.” 

Chad stretches his towel out across the patchy grass a few feet away from Jensen and gingerly drops down. He follows Jensen’s line of sight into the distance and tries to recall the last time he stopped to watch a sunset. He comes up blank. “Yeah, it is.”

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=WeFellinLovePendant.jpg)

Jared and Danneel watch from a distance, ready to intervene if necessary, because neither Chad nor Jensen has any business being out of bed. To see someone like Chad, who’s always so full of life, buzzing from here to there and chatting up anyone who wants to listen and many people who don’t, settle down to watch the sun slowly sink into darkness, it’s actually peaceful. They look content. If Jared didn’t feel like he was intruding, like he’d somehow mess up the first real signs of progress he’s seen since Chris and Chad came back beat to hell and Jensen took off, he’d plop down right next to them.

“Should we get them? We should get them,” Danneel whispers. “They’re gonna sit out here all night.”

“They’re fine,” Jared replies as he wraps his hand around hers. “Let’s go help them finish up dinner.”

“You think we should leave them here? Are you sure that’s wise? It is Chad and Jensen. You’ve met them, right?”

“I don’t think they’re up for much trouble tonight.”

“It’s _Chad_ and _Jensen_.”

She has a point. Danneel usually does, but Jared keeps walking. “We’ll get them later. I think they need this.”

“They need to stare at the dirt and not talk to each other?”

Jared shrugs. “It’s a guy thing.”

Two hours later Jared’s seriously reconsidering his initial assessment. Danneel’s glaring at him from across the camp, her eyes shadowed in the starry night. Just when he’s about to admit a lapse in judgment and go off to bodily drag Jensen and Chad back to camp, he hears a booming laugh followed by the sound of someone stumbling. There’s more laughter, and everyone turns to see Chad emerging from the shadows with his arm around Jensen, supporting his weight. They’re both soaking wet and laughing like they can’t stop. What the hell happened?

Chris beats him to it. “What the hell happened to you?” Chad and Jensen stare at each other for a second before they dissolve into laughter again. Chris narrows his eyes as he steps closer. Jared can tell he’s checking for injuries, for any signs that one or both of them are worse for wear. Right now that sounds like a pretty good idea, and Jared falls into step beside him.

“I think we’re in trouble,” Chad whispers loudly.

Jensen tilts his head back, exposing his throat, and continues to laugh. Jared can’t take it anymore. He presses his hands against the sides of Jensen’s face and pulls his fingers through his damp hair, checking for any bumps or obvious wounds. Jensen tries to nip his fingers when Jared pulls his hands away. No blood, so that’s something. It takes him a full ten seconds to realize Jensen tried to bite his fingers. Wait… _what?_

Chris glances at Jared. “Bleeding?”

Jared shakes his head. “Don’t think so.”

“What about me?” Chad snaps playfully. “I could be bleeding.”

Jensen composes himself long enough to say, “But you’re not. I’d have noticed. I’m pretty good at noticing stuff. Take Chrissy here: he’s about to ask what the hell you’ve done to me.”

“First off, Chrissy? Don’t ever call me that again. And second, what the hell have you done to him?”

Jensen flashes a million dollar smile that nearly makes Jared’s knees buckle. “Told ‘ya.” Seeing someone deliriously happy shouldn’t concern him so much, but this is Jensen. He doesn’t do deliriously happy. He barely does moderately satisfied.

“I haven’t done anything _to_ him,” Chad replies. 

Jensen shifts so his head is resting on Chad’s shoulder, and he mumbles softly against his ear. Jared leans forward, trying to make out the words. Chad starts sniggering and before long he can’t contain it, and he busts into the chorus of ‘You Don’t Know How It Feels’ by Tom Petty. Jensen raises his voice to join him, belting out the words of the chorus like he can’t stop himself and has no inclination to try.

Chris’s eyes widen and he points to Chad before thrusting his finger in Jensen’s direction. “He’s high! He’s fuckin’ high as a kite right now!”

Jensen stumbles forward, and Chris catches him easily, gripping his biceps to keep him from falling to the dirt. “You’re high,” Chris repeats. 

Jensen winks before sing-songing, “You don’t know how it feels.”

“Oh, believe me, I know how it feels.”

Chad finishes with a booming, “To be me!”

“I don’t want to know how that feels,” Chris deadpans. He shakes his head and releases Jensen when Jared’s an arm’s length away, trusting the other man to catch Jensen before he falls. “I can’t believe you. Either of you.”

“Don’t hate,” Jensen says, patting Chris’s shoulder consolingly. “Jared!” he says gleefully as he takes a shaky step forward.

Jared opens his arms because, well, it’s Jensen, and he’s deliriously happy right now, and this might be the best thing Jared’s seen in the last two years. Jensen collapses against him, boneless and grinning against his neck. “Hey, careful,” Jared chides. “Your back.” He rests his hands low on Jensen’s hips because that’s the only place that wasn’t missing major strips of skin.

“Doesn’t hurt.”

“I’d like it not to hurt tomorrow, too,” Jared replies.

Danneel joins the haphazard circle. “Well, I’d say ‘just say no,’ but we all know that’s complete bullshit.”

Jensen rolls his head so it’s against Jared’s chest and grins lazily at Danneel. “Hey, sweetheart.”

She smiles beautifully. “Hi, baby.”

“Ah, Danneel. She’s a good girl,” Chad sing-songs, a mischievous grin curving his lips.

“Good? Ha! I hardly think…”

“Loves her mama,” Jensen sings, his voice like honey.

“I hear she loves Jesus,” Chris adds.

Jared can’t help himself. “America, too.”

It builds from there, and within seconds they’re belting out the chorus of ‘Free Fallin’.’ Five voices are joined by more, and soon the entire camp is screaming out the heartland rock classic. Machines be damned, because tonight is for the humans. Score one for the home team.

Chris brings out his guitar and Jensen sings every Tom Petty song he knows. It turns out his knowledge of blues-rock is pretty damn impressive. Every time Jared opens his mouth to tell Jensen it’s time for bed, Jensen starts another song and Jared lets it go. Jensen loses himself in the music, keeping his eyes closed as he taps out the beat against Jared’s thigh. Years ago he would have paid good money to hear someone like Jensen sing. Tonight he gets to hear it for free. 

Everyone is crowded around, pressed in close. A few people have nodded off, but no one has returned to their rooms, like they’re just not ready to give this up.

Chris nods to Jensen, who’s on his side, resting between Jared’s legs. “I think it’s time for all the rockstars to go to bed, yeah?”

Jared brushes Jensen’s hair out of eyes. “Come on, Jen. Bed time.”

“Whose bed?” Jensen asks, barely covering a yawn, as Jared pulls him to his feet. 

“Whose bed? What do you mean whose bed? Your bed, Jen.”

“Oh.”

Jared’s just taken a wrong turn, and he knows it. Luckily Misha has a quicker recovery time. “I snore. It’s dreadful. Really, it is. You should keep Jared with you. Perhaps he’ll actually get some sleep.”

Jensen squints up at Jared. “What if I don’t want to sleep?”

“Or you can not sleep,” Misha amends, smirking. “That’s cool, too.”

“And that’s our cue,” Jared says as he steers Jensen away and chuckles echo behind them. “Good night, everyone.”

Jensen pulls away, and Jared’s ready to call him back. “Chad?”

Mike is helping Chad to his feet, talking to him quietly before he notices Jensen’s trying to walk back to them. “No worries, man. I got our resident drug dealer.”

“I prefer the term herbal apothecary.”

“Yes, that does have a nice ring to it,” Misha agrees.

“Don’t encourage him.”

Jared leans closer, breathing against the shell of Jensen’s ear. “Come on.” Jensen comes without resistance, allowing Jared to guide him to his room, their movements finally in sync.

Jensen climbs down the ladder and Jared drops behind him, sealing the hatch. When he turns around, Jensen’s already out of his shirt and pulling off his shoes. Well, that was fast.

“Jensen,” Jared starts, unsure of what he wants to say. Scratch that. He wants to tell Jensen to get on the bed, to never move, and let Jared do whatever he wants to his naked body. He also has morals and would never take advantage of someone who isn’t in control of all their faculties. 

Jensen looks at him, sinking his teeth into his lower lip as he pops the button on his jeans. It’s a look that should damn well be criminal. Better men than Jared have crumbled for far less.

“Jensen,” Jared repeats, because he has to know Jensen is completely with it. The last thing he wants is regrets in the morning. There are already enough regrets to go around this camp.

“I just want to feel good, Jared,” Jensen says as he pulls down his zipper and kicks out of his jeans. Jared follows his movements, staring at the tanned skin that’s being offered by choice, not by medical necessity. “Tonight that’s what I want. That’s all I want.”

“That’s it?”

Jensen cocks his head to the side like he doesn’t understand. His cheeks are flushed, and this is the moment where Jared realizes time doesn’t matter, labels don’t matter. Tonight he just wants to feel good, too.

“C’mere,” Jared says softly.

Jensen waits a beat until he realizes what Jared’s offering, and he crosses the room in two long strides. Jared’s shirt is stripped away, and his pants follow after he nearly busts his ass trying to get his shoes off. Jensen’s hands are everywhere, touching and rubbing and Jared thinks he might explode. His knees buckle when Jensen latches onto his collarbone, nipping and sucking, and Jared thinks he deserves an award for being able to remain upright.

“Come on,” Jared encourages as he nudges them toward the bed. “Bed, Jen. Bed will be better.”

Jensen sucks at the pulse point in Jared’s neck and allows Jared to guide him to the bed. Jared takes him by the waist and twists so he’s the one that lands on his back and Jensen ends up on top without letting go of his neck.

“You… you sure about this?” Jared manages to say. Words are evading him, and this is something he probably should have asked sooner. Like when Jensen still had his clothes on.

Jensen growls, and Jared feels the tremors against his chest. “Stop thinking, Jared.”

“But –”

Jensen rests his hand on Jared’s inner thigh, callused fingers stroking the sensitive flesh. “Always gotta be so contrary.”

Jared’s eyes widen when he feels Jensen’s straining erection pressing into his hip. “Me? I just want you to –”

Jensen shakes his head. “There you go with the thinking again.” His eyes glitter through the soft shadows cast by the warm light of the oil lamp. “Guess I’ll have to make it so you can’t think at all.”

Jensen shifts, his breath ghosting over Jared’s chest and stomach as he slides down. His fingers explore, rubbing the taut skin of Jared’s side, and when Jared feels a puff of warm air against his cock, his brain nearly short circuits.

Jared grips the back of Jensen’s neck until Jensen turns, teeth nipping at his wrist. He takes the hint and moves so his hand is resting on Jensen’s head, fingers stroking through his soft hair. He feels Jensen’s breath hot and heavy against him, and he groans when Jensen strokes his inner thigh. Strong fingers brush against him, and finally he feels warm lips press against him, and before he can open his mouth to encourage Jensen along, he’s swallowed by moist heat.

Jared makes an inhuman sound somewhere between a choked off shout and a swallowed moan. This is going to be over in less than a minute, because an orgasm is already building as pleasure rockets through Jared’s body and curls his toes. “Jensen,” he moans. He pushes his hand against Jensen’s shoulder. When Jensen doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, Jared grabs the back of his neck and tries to push him away. “Jensen,” he repeats loudly. 

Jensen releases him and drags his arm over his mouth before he glares at Jared. “Kinda busy here.”

The sinful sight of Jensen derails Jared’s train of thought, and it takes him half a minute to gather up enough brain cells to tell Jensen why he just interrupted the best blowjob of his life. “Thought we were supposed to be making each other feel good.”

Jensen grins like a predator and licks his spit-shining lips. “This does make me feel good.”

“I bet I can make you feel better,” Jared replies. He doesn’t give Jensen the chance to respond, just slides his hands under Jensen’s armpits and tugs until Jensen lands in a heap on his side. “That’s better,” Jared says before he kisses Jensen’s open mouth, the rebuttal swallowed in a twist of tongues.

Jared releases him long enough to lick his palm. Jensen’s fingers have already found their way back to Jared’s cock like it’s some kind of homing beacon. It was worth interrupting the best blowjob of his existence to hear Jensen’s sigh of pleasure and watch his eyes flutter closed when Jared wraps his fingers around him. It’s quick and messy, nothing more than a few sharp tugs, and Jared’s eating the moans of pure bliss that are escaping from Jensen’s mouth. It’s like skydiving. He knows what’s coming – it pricks at the backs of his eyes and dances down his spine. It’s too soon and not long enough. It’s white, hot, and beautiful.

They’re freefalling.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D4.jpg)

If Jared thought the greatest handjob of his life would suddenly change things, he was sorely mistaken. Jensen treats him the same way, with a distance that Jared’s come to recognize as purely Jensen. What occurred between them is the worst kept secret in all the camp, and if anything changes, it’s how people perceive him. No one has flat out asked what it was like to ‘tap that,’ but it’s come pretty close. People politely point out where Jensen is when he approaches, like Jared now has some right to know. People ask him how Jensen is doing, if he needs anything, if he’s feeling all right.

Jensen has returned to his former self when it comes to camp duties. He’s taking on more than his fair share, keeping odd hours and sleeping when the issue is forced, usually by Jared, or when he can’t keep his eyes open any longer and his body finally yells enough already. It’s the spark that’s missing. It’s cliché and stupid, but it’s just not there. 

Brock pulled some epically stupid shit the other day, and Jensen didn’t bat an eye. Chris nearly took Brock’s head off, yelling and throwing things, making Brock swear on everything he holds dear that he’ll never pull anything like that again. Jensen just watched the fireworks for a few minutes before sauntering off to count the corn harvest.

Jensen’s adrift and everyone else is drifting because Jensen can’t seem to come back, not completely. He’s there and pulling his weight, but he won’t make a decision. He won’t lead, and it’s not the kind of thing he can be called on, because as far as Jensen is concerned, he was never the leader to begin with. The status is quo even if it’s anything but.

Jared hasn’t slept in Jensen’s bed since they shared that mind-blowing handjob, or as Jared likes to call it: the best fucking night of his life. Jared watches as Jensen ambles through the camp in the late evening hours. He’d spent the day with Misha and Chris in the fields working on the irrigation system. Jared watches until Jensen disappears into his room, and when the hatch is closed, Jared finally allows his shoulders to slump under the weight of frustration and fatigue. It shouldn’t be this hard.

Misha is reading when Jared drops into their shared room. He acknowledges Jared with a smile and closes the book, leaving his finger between the pages to mark his place.

“How’d it go in the fields?” Jared asks, his voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt as he pulls it over his head.

“Good, actually. We’re making progress. I think we’ll be able to cover the west crops by end of the season.”

“That’s great, Misha. It’s awesome you know so much about irrigation systems. Speaking of which, where the hell did you learn that?”

Misha shrugs. “I wanted to be a farmer for awhile.”

Jared shakes his head because he’s not surprised. Misha is one of those people that could have been anything he wanted if the war never started and the world hadn’t gone to shit. 

“You’re wearing your thinking face,” Misha comments.

It’s Jared’s turn to shrug. “It’s just… you could have done anything, you know? Been anything, and here you are.”

“Making a difference and doing something that matters,” Misha finishes like he has no regrets, like being here is exactly where he’d want to be even if things were different. “I’m happy here.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jared agrees because he doesn’t want to sound ungrateful. He knows just how lucky they were to stumble across this place. If they hadn’t nearly run Chad off the road, they’d have kept driving, and who knows where they would have ended up? Chances are they wouldn’t even be alive. This place is the mecca they were both looking for. “It’s great.”

Misha falls silent. Eventually he sets his book aside, place forgotten as he folds his hands in his lap. “But it’s different for you. There’s a layer of complexity that I don’t have.”

Jared drops down on his bed after he toes his shoes off. “Jensen.”

“You’re in love with him.”

Jared shakes his head because he’s not. He can’t be. He is. Completely. “I don’t know how it happened.”

Misha laughs, his baritone voice echoing through the small concrete room. “It happens, Jared. There are worse things. Trust me.”

“He’s not the same,” Jared says quietly. His soft voice is a staunch contrast to Misha’s booming laughter moments ago. “I don’t know how to help him.”

“Not to sound flippant, but have you tried talking to him?”

Jared glares across the room. “You’ve met Jensen, right?”

Misha makes a sound of acknowledgment and steeples his fingers in front of his chest. “So a covert approach then.”

“I just don’t know what he needs.” He’s helpless, and it’s not something he can verbalize because Jensen has done nothing wrong. He’s performing his duties and more, it’s just not the same, and the camp is drifting without him. It’s like watching someone you know performing at half capacity, and Jared knows he can do better. He’s seen it, lived it and wants Jensen to be everything everyone knows he can be. He wants Jensen to know he’s got his back. He’ll take care of him when it’s too much, and be there when it’s not enough.

“He needs to feel like he’s in control,” Misha says. 

Jared pauses, because Misha gave him an answer. An honest to God answer and Jared didn’t see that coming from the man who speaks in riddles. “But he is in control.” Jensen’s many things, and a man of control is definitely one of them. Even now, after everything that’s happened, nothing happens without Jensen at least knowing about it.

“I said he needs to _feel_ like it,” Misha repeats. “First everything with Chad and you doubting him. That’s not a dig at you, so don’t say anything yet.” Jared closes his mouth and lets Misha spin whatever tale he’s telling. “Then Chad and Chris nearly die on his watch. And, yeah, he might say he’s not running things, but he damn sure assumed responsibility for every person here. This was personal.” Jared finds himself nodding as Misha continues, “He took out the BD, the machine that brought cities to their knees, and no one has a clue how that went down, but it went, and he somehow crawled back here beat to hell and back. He lost himself then. Expectations were high and he couldn’t meet them. In his mind, he didn’t measure up. He floundered, and we gave him space. He yelled, we gave him more space. Chad gets him high, you sleep with him, and now he’s more confused than when he started. And guess what: he still doesn’t measure up.”

Jared’s staring now, gaping at Misha, who’s found words for everything Jared’s been thinking. Maybe Misha wanted to be a psychologist for awhile, too. “But that’s complete bullshit. He should know that no one expects him –”

“Don’t we, though?” Misha quietly interjects. “We all expect him to, and despite his outspoken disagreement, he knows what he was. On some level, he knows. And once he figures that out, makes peace with it, he’ll be better than he was before. He’ll be what he was meant to be.”

This is all rather prophetic for Jared’s taste, but despite all that, he’d like to meet that Jensen. The Jensen who knows who he is, embraces it, and fulfills his destiny. Yeah, this is becoming a bit too John Connor for his tastes.

“He’s lost his way, Jared, and I don’t think he knows how to find it again.”

“Um, you know what? You should talk to him.”

“I want Jensen back as much as everyone else, but I don’t think I have the same vested interest in it as you do,” Misha says. 

“I’m not sure I can…”

“If you can fuck him, you can talk to him.”

Jared rubs his thumb across his knuckles, biting his lower lip and wondering why he’s about to share this little tidbit of information. “I didn’t fuck him.”

“Oh?” Misha says as he slides out of bed and pads over to turn off the oil lamp. “Your loss.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Jared groans as he stretches out on the bed.

He listens as Misha resettles himself, plumping his pillow and rolling onto his side. “It’s okay, Jared. I happen to know this is a world of second chances.”

Jared smiles at that and thinks about his second chance with Jensen before sleep pulls him under.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D1.jpg)

It’s the next evening when Jared corners Jensen in the underground supply storage. Jensen’s hefting the last bag of corn through the hatch when Jared approaches. His footsteps are measured, and he doesn’t stop until he’s standing within arm’s reach of Jensen.

“Hey, Jensen,” Jared says. 

“Hey.” Jensen wipes his hands on his jeans after he slides the hatch closed. It’s obvious Jared’s got something on his mind, and Jensen decides to let it play out. He’s surprised Jared hasn’t taken the opportunity to call him an asshole before this. Jensen isn’t an idiot – he knows what he and Jared did meant something, and could mean something more, if he wasn’t such a chicken shit. He was the one that had thrown himself at Jared, and he knew exactly what he was doing the entire time. 

He squares his jaw and meets Jared’s gaze. Jared deserves this, has a right to say his piece and be heard, and Jensen will take it. Hell, he’ll probably agree with everything Jared has to say.

“I get it.” Jensen tilts his head and tries to put that in context before realizing there is no context, because that’s all Jared has said. “I stand by what I said to you before. You’re fucked up, and far from perfect, but you’re also pretty amazing.”

What the hell? This is not the speech Jensen had been expecting. This isn’t even on the same planet. If Jared has any sense, he’ll take a swing at Jensen’s far from perfect head. Jared keeps right on talking, barreling through Jensen’s inner demons as he goes.

“There’s no pressure, Jen. You’re over-thinking this. Over-thinking a lot of things, actually.”

Now Jensen requires clarification, because what exactly has he been over-thinking? “You want to explain that?”

“You think too much. You can’t figure out where you belong, but I gotta tell you, Jen: you belong here. Whatever you want, you can have. Right now. You just have to stop fighting it.”

Jensen backs up a step, because this is too much, too close to home, and he doesn’t know where Jared is getting this shit. It’s like the affirmation he never knew he needed and doesn’t know how to take. 

“Be yourself. It’s not about titles or authority or responsibility. You have to let yourself be you, and damn whatever you think might be the consequences. I know you can do that. You fight yourself more than anyone else around here. And you gotta stop now. You just have to stop.” Jared takes a step forward to counter Jensen’s step back. “I’m going to spare you the suspense: you’re going to fuck up. Right now you’re probably thinking of one hundred ways you’re going to get this wrong.” Well, yeah, he is, but – “You have to stop thinking like that. No one is perfect, Jensen. And what you’re forgetting is that I’m going to be there with you every step of the way. Even if you think you can’t do it, I’m going to be there to tell you that you can, and if you don’t believe me, we’ve got a whole camp filled with competent people who will back me up on this.”

Jared has no idea what he’s offering, because right now Jensen is a barely hanging on, and it’s all he can do not to leg it the second someone asks him what he thinks about planting more apricot trees this year.

Thoughts are zinging through his head a mile a minute and Jensen gives voice to the first thing he can grab onto. “Jared, I –”

“And you don’t have to worry about us, because you already have me. If you want me, that is, and I have a feeling you do.” Jared leans forward and presses a dry kiss to Jensen’s temple. “Everything’s going to be okay, Jen.” With that bit of life altering information, Jared spins on his heel and walks away, leaving Jensen with his mouth hanging open, collecting desert sand.

Jensen doesn’t pursue him, just watches as he goes. “Huh.” He’s got a lot to think about.


	7. Chapter 7

“So, what’s up with you?” Chris asks. 

It’s an easy enough question, but he and Chris don’t go around asking each other deep questions that could possibly lead to even deeper emotional conversations, so he knows Chris is going somewhere with this.

“Nothing. Why?”

“Because you woulda had Mike’s head if he pulled that shit a month ago.”

Jensen shrugs, feeling uneasy. Things change. People change. With Jared’s one-sided conversation still fresh in his mind, he wonders how much he’s changed. “He fucked up. Whatever. It happens.”

“Fuck-ups can get us all killed,” Chris replies, leveling his gaze at Jensen and willing him to react. 

Jensen can hear it in his mind, can feel people watching. _Come on. Get back in the saddle. We need you._

He’s not ready. “You want a pound of flesh? You take it. I’m going to bed.”

Chris grabs his shirt as he tries to pass, tugging him around until they’re standing face to face, a hint of a glare narrowing Jensen’s eyes. _That’s it. Get mad. Get pissed off._

Jensen can’t hold onto it; the fight leaves him almost immediately and his shoulders sag. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I’m gonna take a supply run tomorrow,” Chris says, ignoring the way Danneel and Mike jerk their heads toward him, eyes wide. Jared stands up and takes a step toward them like he’s going to intervene.

Jensen’s eyes narrow farther, vein pulsing in his forehead, and Chris fights down the smirk that’s threatening to curve his lips. “Yeah? And who are you taking with you?”

Chris shrugs, all confidence. “No one. I’m fine on my own.”

“You’re gonna…? No way, Chris. No fucking way,” Jensen bites out. What the hell has gotten into Chris? He doesn’t go off half-cocked. He knows how dangerous it is, and if he expects Jensen to sit by while he does something as pigheaded and stupid as this, he’s got another thing coming.

“Yeah?” Chris challenges, stepping close to invade Jensen’s personal space. “Last time I checked, I don’t answer to you.” 

Jensen curls his fist at his side and meets Chris head on, anger swirling in the depths of his eyes, and for a second everything falls silent. “You’re not going. You hear me? You’re not fucking going.” He steps back, jerking his hand through his hair. “You wanna go on a run? Fine. We’ll talk about it, plan it out, but if you think you’re going off half-cocked and alone? No. Hell no.” Jensen’s eyes travel to the group who’s standing around, trying to look away, but unable to look anywhere except at the fireworks between Jensen and Chris. “That goes for everyone here. We’re a team, all right? We do things together or not at all. That’s how we survive.” He steps toward Chris again, green eyes focused like lasers as he meets his gaze. “Do we understand each other?”

Chris nods and grabs Jensen’s shoulder, squeezing once. “Yeah, I think we’re starting to speak the same language again.”

Jensen squeezes Chris’s hand where it’s resting on his shoulder, then pulls away and walks to his room with his head held high. 

“Welcome back,” Chris murmurs. He turns to Jared, who’s standing a few feet away and smiling like he just can’t stop. He nods in the direction Jensen went. “This got anything to do with you?”

“Nope,” Jared replies, still smiling. “It was a pretty stupid plan, though. If Jensen hadn’t stopped you, I would have.”

Chris chuckles. “You could have tried.” 

“I call bullshit anyway. You were never planning a run.”

Chris nods. “I call bullshit, too. This has something to do with you, and you ain’t gotta tell me why. None of my business anyway.” He pats Jared on the shoulder as he walks past toward his room. “You did good, though. Whatever you did, it was good.”

“Hey,” Jensen calls from the shadows. “You coming or what?”

Chris smirks as he arches an eyebrow. “I don’t think he’s talking to me.”

“Right,” Jared says, his grin threatening to slip off the sides of his face. “I better go and see what he wants.”

“I can tell you exactly what he wants,” Chris mutters as Jared jogs off in the direction of Jensen’s voice.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D2.jpg)

It’s a subtle shift. It’s like the fog has cleared, something clicked into place, and Jensen’s with them again. There are no grand announcements or inspiring speeches. It’s like returning to a room he’s just walked out of and realizing his keys are in his pocket and he hasn’t actually forgotten anything. He spends his days in the fields with Chris, or talking to Misha about his plans for the next planting season. He listens when Mike tells him about the improvements he’s made to the security system. He picks up a blue sundress with bright flowers on it for Danneel from the remains of a strip mall: she likes it, catching his arm and kissing his cheek after he throws it at her and before he can run away. Chad likes the dress even more, and he tells her that at least ten times when she wears it the first time. Jensen touches Jared more, bumping his shoulder when he walks by or sitting close so their arms brush together. There are no lengthy discussions or deep emotional conversations about what they are to each other. To Jensen, it’s enough. It’s good, even. It’s more than he ever thought he’d have in this world. If he’s honest, it’s better than he had before the war.

It’s a hot day, and the temperature has to be pushing one hundred degrees. Jared returns with Chad on the ATV from the eastern fields in the late afternoon. He’s covered in dirt and drenched in sweat. Jensen takes a few seconds to appreciate the view.

Jared must catch him looking, because he stretches his arms over his head and gives Jensen a playful leer. “Like what you see?” he teases.

Jensen looks away, blushing. “Um… yeah. How’d it go?”

“It’s hotter than a whore house on nickel night,” Chad complains as he tugs his shirt over his head. “I’m going to throw myself in the river and stay there until winter.”

“It went fine,” Jared replies after he stops laughing. “Did you finish the room you were working on?”

“Misha and I got the concrete poured. We should have another room by the end of the week.”

Jared smiles, and Jensen can’t help but smile back. 

“Ugh… river now. You two are making me ill,” Chad grumbles.

“Hang on. I’ll join you,” Jared says. He makes a grab for Jensen and manages to slide two fingers through a belt loop, tugging Jensen close. “Wanna come?”

Jensen acts like he’s trying to get away, which is nothing more than bumping Jared with his hip which allows Jared to pull him closer. Jared smells like sweat and earth, and Jensen takes a deep breath, barely resisting the urge to take a swipe at Jared’s neck with his tongue. “Nah, I gotta finish up with Misha. We’ll catch up later.”

Jared frowns and Jensen feels his resolve crumbling. 

“Go on,” Jensen insists as he playfully shoves Jared away. “Chad’s already in the lake enjoying the refreshing water while you’re sitting here pouting at me.”

“Brick walls have more give than you do,” Jared mutters as he hip checks Jensen before walking away.

“That’s not what you said last night!” Jensen calls after him.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D3.jpg)

They crowd around the small room, trying to inch out enough space to sit down. The group is huddled together as Chris turns on the radio and slides down the wall to join Jensen on the floor.

Jensen considered waking Jared for the fireside chat, but after his long day under the unforgiving desert sun, he was out like a light and Jensen left him to sleep. He could catch him up tomorrow. Chad had managed to make it down to the war room, but he’s passed out on Danneel, snoring softly against her shoulder. 

“Whaddya think it’ll be tonight?” Mike asks.

“Who knows?” Chris replies. “Another novel chapter, maybe?”

“I’m hoping for a historical piece tonight. The reading of Dr. King’s ‘I Have a Dream’ speech a few weeks ago was incredible,” Misha comments.

There’s no set order to the speeches. Whoever feels like talking or has something to share gets on the radio and their voice is broadcast to whoever might be listening. Chris is the only one at their camp who has shared, singing four of his own songs. To Jensen, who has seen Chris perform for thousands, it was the best he’d ever played.

“Isn’t it time?” Danneel asks when the silence drags on.

Jensen grinds his knuckles against his jeans as he repeats a familiar mantra in his head: they’re not alone. Someone will be there. 

“I guess I’ll share a story,” a soft feminine voice offers. “This silence… I hate it, so I’ll share tonight.”

Jensen releases a sharp breath and his head sags between his shoulders as he leans forward, letting the lilting voice wash over him.

“My brother, well, he’s a dumbass. Was a dumbass, I guess. That’s not important –” She stutters, stalls and takes a few deep breaths.

“You’re okay,” Chris mumbles to the unknown speaker, even though she can’t hear him. “Keep going ‘cause we’re all listening.”

When she speaks again, her voice is clearer, stronger. “It was the start of summer right after school let out, and we were all ready to stretch our wings and do our own thing for a while. My brother gets the bright idea to hijack our parents’ brand new pickup.”

Mike snickers as Danneel shakes her head. “This isn’t going to end well.”

Jensen leans closer, listening intently. There’s no way…

“He takes their truck and drives to his buddy’s house who’s about as bright as he is…”

The story ends exactly how Jensen expected it would, with Jared driving into his friend’s porch, nearly taking the whole thing down in the process. This is Jared’s sister. _Holy shit_.

Chris nudges his knee. “You okay, man?”

Jensen nods and shakes his head at the same time as everyone in the room starts laughing when the story is finished with the recalcitrant young man spending his summer rebuilding his friend’s porch and the better part of his high school years grounded.

She finishes the way same they all finish: “So, yeah. Stay safe out there, okay?”

People filter out of the room, still smiling and laughing at the carefree story that was shared tonight, a throwback to the lives they had once lived.

Jensen is back at the radio, adjusting buttons before clutching the old box between his shaking hands. “You still there? Hey, are you still there?”

Chris is at his shoulder, staring down at him. “Jensen, what are you doing?”

“Come on,” Jensen mutters. “You wouldn’t share that and walk away.”

“You’re starting to freak me out,” Chris says. 

Jensen shakes the radio like he can will the woman back, like he can make some kind of connection through the power of his need alone. This isn’t how it works. They don’t try to make contact. They don’t try to talk to one another because there are too many risks.

“Yeah, I’m here,” the woman responds.

Chris groans. “What are you doing, Jensen? You know this isn’t how it –”

“I know your brother.”

Chris’s mouth falls open as silence fills the room. Jensen can hear himself breathing as he waits. It’s her choice.

It’s nothing more than a breath of air when she whispers, “You know Jared?”

Jensen closes his eyes. “Hi, Megan.”

Chris responds with what they’re all thinking. “Holy shit.”

They talk for over an hour; it’s evasive and coded in riddles, slang that only someone from Texas would understand. It’s doable, though, what they’re planning, even if it’s never done. As it turns out, Megan was roughly five hours from their camp this whole time.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D4.jpg)

“Where the hell have you been?” Jared snaps before Jensen has a chance to close the door to the Jeep.

“I had to –”

“Had to what? Run some errands? Pick up your dry cleaning? Swing by the bank? I thought we were past this. What the fuck were you –”

“Jared?” a hesitant voice asks.

It’s like watching a car accident in slow motion. All the color drains from Jared’s face, and he closes his eyes, swallowing hard. He knows that voice. Without a doubt, Jared knows that voice. Jensen steps back to give him room.

“Jared?” she asks again, walking toward him slowly.

“Megan,” Jared murmurs, trying to fight back tears and failing as he gathers his sister in his arms.

Jensen watches the reunion for a minute until he feels like he’s intruding on something private. After words are whispered that are only meant for a long lost brother and sister meeting again for the first time, he follows Chris toward the camp, clapping him on the shoulder and simply saying, “Thank you.”

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D1.jpg)

“Ouch!” Jensen yells, sitting up as he flings his arm to the right. He hears the smack of flesh on flesh, and he blinks in the darkness, recognizing Jared standing over his bed. He rubs tiredly at his face and collapses back on the bed. “What the hell, man?”

“You’re not real,” Jared says quietly.

Jensen turns over, tugging the blanket as he goes. “Pretty sure I’m real. You just pinched me, and it fucking hurt.”

Jared’s hand is on his shoulder, pulling him back. “You can’t be real.”

“Jared, it’s too late for this. I’m real. You’re real. Can I please get some sleep now?”

“What you did…” Jared’s voice falters as he struggles to find the words. “Why didn’t you tell me? You should have told me. She’s my _sister_.”

“And if it didn’t work?” Jensen asks. “If we couldn’t find her, or we got attacked along the way? Were you going to make good decisions when there was a chance to get your sister back?”

There’s truth in Jensen’s words, because there’s not a damn thing Jared wouldn’t sacrifice to have Megan back again. 

“Look, I get it, I should have told you. I didn’t, but I’m not entirely sorry. You have every right to be pissed off, and if you want to hate –”

Jared’s arms wrap around him, pulling him upright, and pretty soon he’s eating the soft cotton of Jared’s shirt. “Just shut up, okay? Shut up. You gave me my sister back. My sister, Jen. You did that for me.” He lets Jared hold him, tilts his head slightly when Jared presses his face against his neck.

“It’s okay, Jared,” Jensen whispers quietly when Jared doesn’t let him go. “Megan’s okay. You’re okay. We’re all okay.” Jared presses against his side, and Jensen moves over. Somehow Jared’s arms stay around him when he climbs into bed. He pulls Jensen on top of him, tangling his legs around Jensen’s ankles and holding him close. “Um…”

All Jared says is, “I’m not letting you go. Not for a long time.”

Jensen nods against Jared’s shoulder. “Okay.” And for now, Jensen’s okay, too.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D2.jpg)

Jensen wakes slowly, stretching his body carefully, and when his hand lands on warm skin, his eyes fly open. _What the hell?_

Jared is lying on his side, watching Jensen through hooded eyes. “Morning, Impossible.”

“Morning impossible?” Jensen mutters as he yawns and stretches his arms above his head. “Is that like Mission Impossible?”

“No, it’s morning and you’re impossible.”

Jensen grunts and pulls the covers over his head. “We’re back to that, are we?” Jared follows him below the covers, pressing his forehead to Jensen’s before he can move away. Jared crowds against him, long arms wrapping tightly around his body. He doesn’t squeeze, just fits Jensen against him until their bodies are one.

Jared slides his hand down Jensen’s side, fingers spanned wide across his rib cage. His movements are deliberate but still gentle, like he’s learning each inch of skin, as though Jensen’s some amazing work of art that should be studied and treasured.

“Jared,” Jensen whispers through sleep-dried lips. He means to warn him, to say no or don’t do this if you don’t mean it, or maybe he means don’t stop. Please, whatever you do, don’t stop touching me. Don’t stop making me yours.

“Do you want words?” Jared asks. “’Cause I can give you words. I can tell you how amazing I think you are. How beautiful. I can tell you how you’ve saved me when I didn’t realize I needed to be saved, and I can tell you all the ways I think we could be incredible together.” Jensen buries his face in Jared’s neck, mouth open and pleading as Jared skims his hand over Jensen’s inner thigh. “Yeah, I don’t think we need words either.”

Jared pushes Jensen flat on his back and rolls on top of him, forearms bracketing his head. Jensen stares up at him, eyes unblinking. “I’m gonna kiss you,” Jared murmurs as he dips his head. “I can’t not kiss you right now.”

Whatever response is on Jensen’s lips is swallowed by Jared’s bruising kiss. Jared explores his mouth, holding nothing back as the need to breathe becomes a very real concern. Jensen pushes at Jared’s chest, fighting for leverage when he finds none.

“Jared… mmph… Jared,” Jensen groans as he tries to push the other man away.

“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘kiss me more’ or ‘touch me there,’ I don’t want to hear it.”

Jensen turns his head when Jared dips for another kiss. Jared sighs and drops to one bent arm, keeping his other stretched across Jensen’s chest. “Yes?”

He scrambles to collect his thoughts, something, anything that might make sense, because nothing right now makes any sense. “Don’t.”

“Don’t kiss you? Jensen, I’m gonna kiss you. I plan on doing a whole lot more to you, in case you were wondering.”

Jensen closes his eyes, forcing himself to keep his mouth from seeking purchase on Jared’s lips. This is about his sister and whatever fucked up debt Jared’s trying to pay. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Jared coughs above him, and when Jensen peels his eyes open, Jared’s gazing at him through wide eyes. “Is that what you think this is?”

Could it be anything else? Jensen brings Megan back and Jared finds his way to Jensen’s bed. Jensen doesn’t believe in coincidence. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Have to? _Have_ to? Is that why you think I’m here? Because of Megan?” Jensen bites his lip. Jared groans and presses his forehead against Jensen’s shoulder. “Okay, let’s start with something simple. Jensen, what exactly do you think we are?”

Jensen rests his hand on the coiled muscles of Jared’s back. “Does that matter?” Attraction means nothing. Jensen got used to telling himself no a long time ago, and now, what he wants has little or no merit on what he actually gets.

“It matters. Right now, it fucking matters,” Jared growls before he nips at Jensen’s ear.

Jensen swallows, his cock twitching in interest as Jared hovers just above his body. “We’re…” He has a feeling if he says they’re two guys scratching an itch, Jared’s going to throw him out of his own bed. He knows better than that, anyway. He knows what they are, and he figured Jared got the memo when Jensen called him to bed weeks ago.

“What are we, Jensen?”

“Jesus, Jared. Why the hell does it –” Jared bites his shoulder, and Jensen winces before a warm tongue soothes away the sting. “We’re whatever you want us to be.”

“Wrong answer.” Jared sinks his teeth into the cords of Jensen’s neck, and Jensen’s mouth falls open, panting. “I want you,” Jared murmurs before running his tongue along the indentations left by his teeth.

“You can have me,” Jensen replies as he chases Jared’s mouth. “You already have me. Thought we covered that.”

“All of you, Jensen,” Jared murmurs. “All the time.”

“All the time?” Jensen breathes, his back arching on the bed when Jared’s hand ghosts over the bulge in his boxers. “I don’t know. Might get on your nerves.”

“You already get on my nerves,” Jared says, fingers skimming Jensen’s inner thigh and dancing away when Jensen tries to shift so Jared’s hand lands where he needs it the most. “And know what? That’s okay – it happens, and guess what? I still want you. Besides, I get on your nerves, too.”

Jensen’s about to tell him that he doesn’t, not really. To Jensen, Jared is just about perfect. He’s open and kind. He’s strong and gorgeous, and he knows what Jensen needs without having to ask. Jared’s hand brushes against his cock, and Jensen groans. “Jared, please.”

“Yeah, I’ve got you.” Jared kisses him, open and sloppy, before he slides down his body and demonstrates exactly how he gives Jensen what he needs without him having to ask.

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D3.jpg)

Jensen pulls himself out of the war room and turns to slide the hatch closed. He sees movement out of the corner of his eye, and Megan is weaving her way toward him. He lifts his eyebrow even though she can’t see it through the darkness.

“It’s late,” he says as he pushes himself to his feet.

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Which begs the question: why are you still up?” 

He chuckles, conceding her point. Megan’s so much like her brother, all spirit and little tact. It works for them. “Wanted to run through the raid plans one more time.”

She nods. “Yeah, Jared said that about you. You don’t leave much to chance. He also said something about brick walls and being impossible that I won’t mention.”

“Your brother talks a lot,” Jensen mutters. “Anyway, that’s my excuse. Why are you prowling around like some kind of creeper?”

She shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Come on,” Jensen says suddenly. He starts walking, and she falls into step beside him.

They end up on the hood of the Jeep, staring up at the bright stars. 

“Wow,” Megan murmurs, blinking up at the endless sky.

Jensen nods, his head rocking against the cool glass of the windshield. It’s beautiful out here, even if they rarely take the time to appreciate it. They stare at the sky and Megan points out the names of the constellations she knows, having taken astronomy and actually passed, where Jensen had used the class time to catch up on his sleep.

“So, you and Jared, huh?” she says after awhile.

“I guess, yeah.”

She gives him a sideways look. “You guess?”

“If you’re asking what my intentions are, you could just –”

“Hey, relax, Jensen. It’s all good. You’re the last person I’d demand any answers from. I just wasn’t expecting…” She sighs and reverts her gaze back to the stars. “I guess I don’t know what I was expecting. It’s been years.”

“It works,” Jensen replies even though she hasn’t pressed him for more. “We work. Your brother, he’s a force to be reckoned with.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Jensen chuckles. “Sorry, I’m not very good at meeting the family.”

She smiles, a bright grin that rivals the stars in the sky. “I wouldn’t say that. I think you’re doing just fine.”

He ducks his head, smiling at her soft praise. When he lifts his gaze, he points to the stars above. “What did you say that one was called?”

[ ](http://s258.photobucket.com/albums/hh248/nordesm/J2%202012%20BB/?action=view&current=D4.jpg)

The raid was successful, and they brought new tools, gasoline, and a couple of new mattresses and linens back to the camp. There was recent machine activity in the area, more than what they’re used to seeing, and the city had been freshly picked over by mechanical soldiers. They were looking for survivors. The machines are looking for them.

Jensen knows there’s going to come a day soon when they’re not going to be able to hide anymore. There’s going to come a time when they’ll to have to wage war against the machines that took their world from them if they want to continue to survive.

Jensen hears a cough and the sound of someone tripping in the darkness. He winces when he hears Jared’s soft curse. “Jensen?”

“Yeah, over here,” Jensen calls. 

Jared pads over to him, wearing unbuttoned jeans and flip flops, with a blanket tossed over his shoulders. “It’s late.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Jensen says, pawning it off like he just got out of bed.

Jared doesn’t miss a beat. “How long have you been up?”

Busted. “Um… two hours?”

Jared rolls his eyes and takes Jensen’s elbow. “Come on, Impossible. Back to bed.”

Luckily that day isn’t today, and Jensen allows himself to be led. 

~Finished~

_Thank you for reading._

**Author's Note:**

> I could not have done this without so many people – too many to name in the interest of brevity. Please know that I appreciate all who have helped shape this story. In the end, I didn’t finish where I would have liked. Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll write a sequel.


End file.
